Traitor
by broadhands
Summary: A young woman feels betrayed by the abandoning of her heritage by the few remaining humans on Pandora. Another story in my En Pointe narrative arc, contemporary with my story 'The Empty Man'.
1. Chapter 1

They were traitors, every last one of them.

How could they just give up on their humanity?

Private Galina Stefanova Uluta was consumed by a potent mixture of dismay, anger and betrayal. She had been woken from cryo after five years hibernation, to find that the force of Avatars sent to retake Hell's Gate had rebelled against the RDA and captured two starships.

Even worse, they had used those same starships as relativistic planet-killing missiles to destroy all life on Earth.

_Homo sapiens_ was now effectively extinct. The only humans left were here, on Pandora, where they did not belong.

Those traitorous bastard Avatar smurfs were doing everything to force the extinction along. As soon as the shuttle landed, they had been shepherded into the main building and told Earth was dead, told by an Avatar wearing an exopack. There was no long-term survival option – at least, not for humans.

The forecast was that the consumables at Hell's Gate would not support the remaining people on Pandora for more than eighteen months. There would be no relief – _Evening Star _was the last starship dispatched from Earth, before the smurfs killed everything. The bastard briefing them – a smurf called Renshaw – said the only option was to grow Avatars, and permanently transfer everyone's personality.

Well, he and all the rest of the blue traitors could get fucked.

There was no fucking way Galina was going to abandon her species, no matter how shitty her life had been. Not after what she had been through to drag her sorry ass out of the shithole that had been her childhood.

Galina had made her decision. She wasn't going to linger listlessly around Hell's Gate, holding out for some scraps of smurf charity. That was why she was in the Q-store, loading up her pack with supplies and ammo.

"Hoy! What do you think you're doing?"

She turned slowly around, her eyes slowly scanning up the length of a long blue torso. It was a smurf.

"None of your fucking business, turncoat," she growled in reply, as she shrugged her shoulders into the straps of her pack. "Now get out of my fucking way."

"You can't take this stuff..." he started, only to stop when a Wasp revolver appeared like magic in her hand. The muzzle looked to be the same diameter as that of a cannon, at least from his perspective, and he didn't see it tremble in the slightest degree. Apparently he realised that discretion was really the better part of valour, as he held up his hands and took two steps back. "You won't get away with this," he added mildly.

"Just watch me," was Galina's snarling response. She holstered the gun and pushed past the Avatar as though he wasn't there – a somewhat startling feat given that she was only five foot four.

Just before she disappeared out the door, the Avatar called out, "It's dangerous out there."

* * *

It was night.

Of course Galina knew Pandora was dangerous. She was an envirotech, trained to survive on the planet's surface for months, even years, trained to guide others through the perils of Pandora's hostile ecosystem without the need to use Avatars or other advanced technology. There were plants and animals that could be eaten, water that could be drunk. She even knew how to renew the filters on her exopack without using any human technology, so she could breathe the poison that went by the name of 'air' indefinitely.

All the biological research that had been carried out over the last two decades had culminated in the knowledge and training she had struggled to assimilate, so she could leave her shitty life on Earth behind.

But here she was, in what Galina had hoped would be a new beginning.

Instead, her life was at the end of all ends.

Fuck them all.

Galina adjusted her exopack to make sure the fit was secure, loaded her crossbow, took a deep breath of filtered air and slipped into the forest surrounding Hell's Gate.

Really, it was no more dangerous than where she had spent her childhood.

* * *

"Colonel Renshaw, sir," said the Avatar respectfully to the olo'eyktan of the Unìltiranyu.

"What is it, Fingers?" The heavily muscled leader of the rebels against the RDA looked up from his data tablet.

The former soldier said gravely, "One of the humans that came in on the last shuttle just walked out into the forest."

Renshaw sighed. It looked like another suicide by Pandora. More than one arriving on each starship since the destruction of the Earth had been put into motion by his actions had made that choice. "Who is it?"

"Uluta."

A few flips of his right hand brought up Uluta's personnel record. Renshaw started to say, "Put a party together to recover..."

His eyes scanned the personnel record. Perhaps he was wrong about the nature of the mission. If any human was qualified to survive in the Pandoran forest, Uluta might be the one. Orphaned by the Kiev nuke as an infant, she had been through a bunch of different foster families until the age of eight, when she was adopted by a veteran of the Caucasus insurrections, and taken to live in the Siberian backwoods – one of the few remaining untouched wilderness areas on Earth. The envirotech training was a major plus.

Hmmm...home schooled, enlisted when she was seventeen...what did her psych tests say?

Her profile was interesting. Renshaw allowed a half-smile to appear on his face. He had seen many similar scores in the personnel jackets of Special Forces soldiers. High ratings in aggression and independence, self-sufficiency...here was the kicker. A strong peak in compassion, not so different to another woman who had been allegedly under his command – Sharon had surprised everyone.

"Belay that order, Fingers," said Renshaw. "Uluta will come back when she's good and ready."

"But Boss," griped the former Delta trooper, a worry crease between his eyebrows. "She'll die out there. It's suicide."

"Not for this one," said the olo'eyktan. "She's ornery enough to make a thanator choke on her." Renshaw hesitated for a moment. If he was a betting man...and chuckled. Six months, he thought. Six months would do it. Perhaps he would suggest a pool.

It wouldn't do morale any harm.

* * *

As far as Galina could make it, she had been out in the forest for well over a month – possibly two. She hadn't switched her datapad on in all that time – there was too much to do to stay alive than worrying about time.

She hadn't realised how tiring just eating would be. Hold her breath, slip off her exopack, take a bite, repressurise, chew, swallow, and repeat ad infinitum. Then there was pumping up the pressurisation cylinder – by hand. No wonder she had lost weight, until she was nothing more than skin stretched tightly over muscle and bone.

At least drinking didn't present the same problem, although the gases dissolved in the water gave it a sulphurous taste.

One advantage losing weight had presented her – the disappearance of her period. Without access to drugs, Galina had expected to be almost crippled three days out of every twenty-eight. That's what it had been like from the age of eleven through to seventeen, until she enlisted – and she was glad for small mercies.

If only she wasn't always hungry.

Saliva pooled in her mouth at the thought of food. Galina swallowed, and cursed under her breath. She could do without distractions when she was stalking game.

There.

Quietly, she eased her crossbow to her shoulder, and took aim on her target. Without thought, her finger caressed the trigger, and the steel bolt flashed across the clearing, pinning the kali'weya to the aerial root it was traversing. The arthropod screamed, waving its many legs in distress and stabbing its stinger randomly, while Galina ran across the clearing and drove her knife through its brainstem.

The kali'weya gave a single spasm, and stilled.

Galina efficiently butchered the arthropod, and commenced the tiresome task of eating, when she stopped.

She spun around, to see a viperwolf carcass lying in a hollow. It was clear what had killed the beast. The broken stub of a Na'vi arrow projected from its flank. Galina relaxed, and then tensed when the carcass moved.

Ever so cautiously, knife in hand, she dragged the carcass aside. Three viperwolf pups were there – one was clearly dead, while the other two moved weakly. There was only one thing to be done.

Galina took her knife, and started on her grisly self-appointed task.

* * *

"I couldn't do it," she explained to the cubs as she fed them, cutting fine strips of flesh from the corpses of their mother and sibling. "I'm an orphan too, you know."

They mewed quietly as they took the meat from her hands.

Soon, their small bellies were swollen with the meal, and then they promptly fell asleep. Galina returned to the butchered carcass of the kali'weya, and laboriously finished her meal.

Galina sighed. She had just made her life even more difficult.

* * *

A few days later, she woke up before dawn, curled protectively around the two pups. They stirred and grumbled at the disturbance, before collapsing back into deep sleep. While she cut strips of flesh off something that looked like a six legged rabbit hanging from a nearby branch, Galina murmured, "I suppose you should have names."

She thought for a few moments before deciding, 'I think I'll call you Quisling, and your little brother can be Arnold."

Now she had done it. Her foster father had told her never to name an animal, because the act of naming gave it a soul. Then you could no longer kill the damn thing for food. The vicious bastard had never named any of his dogs, or his horse.

Then again, he had never called Galina by her name either.

Why had she done it, she wondered?

* * *

Leaving the pups behind when she hunted wasn't an option. Galina went through the items in her pack, trying to determine what was absolutely necessary to carry, and what would be proof against a pair of teething viperwolf pups.

She wrapped the discards in the rags of her fatigues, and stuffed them in her hidey-hole – inside the hollow of a rotting tree trunk. She shrugged to herself. Due to the rotting of her boots, Galina had been going barefoot for the last fortnight, so now she would be bare-ass too. It was just as well her belt and pack were proof against all that the forest could throw at her, otherwise she would be in dire straits.

One of the things she discarded was the revolver. Most of her gun oil had been consumed in the battle to keep it functional, and there was no guarantee her limited ammunition was proof against the weather conditions. Galina had come to the conclusion that it was dead weight.

A wisp of hair stuck to the glass of her exopack, and she cursed with annoyance. Her ugly dull brown hair was growing so damn fast – something had to be done. Ruthlessly, she pulled her hair back and quickly plaited it, using a scrap of cloth to tie the end off. If there had been a mirror, and her hair had been clean, Galina might have seen reddish tints in her hair, changing colour just like it had in the sunlight of her short adolescent summers in the Siberian forest.

With a single swift action, she scooped up both pups and deposited them in her pack. It was time to go hunting.

* * *

One day blurred into another, as she was consumed by the struggle to keep both herself and the pups alive.

It didn't take long for them to insist being let out of the pack, so they could trail at her feet. It was amazing how well behaved they were on the hunt, instantly quieting on a single gesture of her hand. There focus was total, watching how she stalked her prey intently, until the moment of the kill.

It was only after feeding from the carcass that the pups would gambol and play.

The pups grew rapidly, and she discovered they liked to run. Somehow, Galina managed to keep them in sight when they ran. Despite her ever-present hunger, and the difficulties eating with an exopack, it seemed her Pandoran diet suited her to a tee.

Galina had not noticed that she had grown an improbable six inches taller.

Unlike her change in height, she had noticed that the carbon fibre stock of her crossbow was developing a hairline crack. One of the things her bastard foster father had taught Galina was the art of the bowyer, and that of the fletcher. What little downtime that she had was taken up by the construction of a bow from local materials with matching arrows. Some of her crossbow bolts were sacrificed to form arrowheads – it was faster than finding suitable stone, or grinding an edge from the bones of her prey.

All in all, Galina was very happy how her bow eventually turned out. She felt no regret at discarding her crossbow.

* * *

"Quisling," she hissed quietly. "Arnold."

The heads of the two young viperwolves swung towards her. At her slight gesture, they returned silently to her side, crouching beside her flank in thick cover.

Involuntarily, Galina stiffened at the sound of soft voices, and felt the hackles of her companions rise in sympathy.

Ten Na'vi moved though the forest, made of equal numbers of men and women. Their voices were two low for Galina to understand their words. She began to tremble in fear and hatred. Galina had almost forgotten that this world was inhabited – except for the arrow that had slain the pups' dam, she had seen no sign of intelligent life since leaving Hell's Gate.

The last of the Na'vi – a tall male – stopped and stared directly at her position, frowning. He took half a step towards her, when a woman called out to him to hurry up. Galina's Na'vi was good enough for her to understand the gist of her words. He turned, and said something too quickly for her to understand, and strode after the beckoning woman.

It was time for her to move somewhere further away, away from any being that might be regarded as people, whether Na'vi or not.

All she knew from her short life was that people always betrayed her, hurt her body and her spirit. Why would the Na'vi be any different?

It was that night the dream returned, the nightmare that her foster father was still alive, and still hunting her.


	2. Chapter 2

Galina whimpered and struggled weakly in her sleep. He had caught her, just like he always had, and was smothering her, half choking her, before...

If only she could breathe, she would be safe. Galina gripped the hands that were pressing down on her face, and forced them away. The sudden pain in her chest snapped her awake.

Panic gripped her. In her nightmare, Galina had ripped her exopack away from her face, and was now struggling for oxygen. Cold sweat broke out all over her body as she fumbled with the straps, and hurried to replace the mask over her face, struggling not to breathe in the air that would kill her.

When the hiss of the repressurisation valve sounded, and she felt the wash of safe air across her face, Galina took in shuddering breaths. Calm, she thought, calm. If she hyperventilated, she would pass out, so she forced herself to slow her breathing.

She couldn't do it. Galina broke out in great tearing sobs, each inarticulate noise ripping anguish from her soul like a knife butchering flesh from a carcass. Galina would not accept that he was reaching out, trying to kill her spirit, kill her body.

She would not allow him to control her again. Not now, not ever.

That was why Galina had killed him.

The viperwolves pressed in against her, mewling small noises of comfort, nuzzling her and stroking her with their forepaws. Slowly, her distress abated.

Galina was strong. She had beaten him once before, she would beat him again, and again, no matter how many times he returned. And this time, she had friends to support her.

Her racing heart slowed, and she drifted back into the safety of a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Fingers sat cross-legged on the roof of the control tower, gazing out at the forest. He often came up here, where it was quiet, where he could be away from people. Since the rebellion against the RDA, his life had turned to shit. The wounds he received on the starship assault still troubled him, but despite the occasional pain, it was nothing.

At first, life was wonderful. His beautiful Se'ayl nursed him back to health, and he had been beyond happy in her company.

Then the unthinkable happened.

Se'ayl had been telling him that her sister was with child, her face full of joy and excitement, when she suddenly collapsed to the ground. Fingers' training switched into gear, immediately yelling for a medic, while he checked her pulse, cleared her airways and started breathing for her.

The Doc was there first, on one of her occasional visits from her new home with the Ikran People. She took over, working on his mate for over fifteen minutes, until she called an end.

Later, the Doc told him that Se'ayl had suffered a massive cerebral aneurysm, and had died almost instantly.

Se'ayl had been there one moment, and then she was gone.

The Doc's kind words that it was a painless death meant nothing. All the bright colours of the world had turned grey for Fingers, and life was without meaning.

It had been over five years of living with a hole in his heart since that terrible day. Everyone had been kind to him, especially the Boss. Renshaw had kept him busy with endless work, trying to give Fingers some form of purpose. Ever so slowly, the pain receded, until he could manage from one day to the next without wishing he was dead.

The Tsahik of the Ikran People came to talk to him also, and counselled him in the ways of Eywa. Her words that there was still a place for him within the world helped much, especially after she took him to make the bond with the Tree of Voices. He went there often, listening to the voices of the People who had departed the world, taking comfort that Se'ayl still existed within the arms of Eywa.

Even then, living was not easy.

When he encountered Uluta in the Q-store, he Saw her. He recognised the pain, the anger and loss in her face. It was just like looking in the mirror. That was why he did not try to stop her leaving.

Still, even after learning from the Boss that Uluta was more than qualified to survive, over the last six months Fingers had worried for her, worried that she had placed her life in danger. He knew how easy it was to succumb to despair.

He made a decision.

* * *

Renshaw looked up from his desk. "What is it, Fingers?"

He hadn't seen a look of such grim determination on the Avatar's face since the assault on the starships.

"I'm going after Uluta," replied the soldier bluntly.

The former colonel gazed steadily at Fingers for what seemed like hours, but was in reality only a few seconds. He nodded once, understanding that he wasn't being asked for permission, and said, "Take whatever you need."

"That's it?" demanded Fingers, incredulously. He had been expecting to be told not to be an idiot, and be ordered to stay at Hell's Gate where he would be safe – an order that he would have disobeyed.

"No," said Renshaw. "Radio in every couple of days, so we can keep track of your position."

Fingers said crisply, "Yes, sir."

Renshaw added, "Dismissed."

The olo'eyktan of the Unìltiranyu allowed himself a faint smile as Fingers saluted, spun on his heels and marched out of the longhouse.

At last Fingers had found a purpose.


	3. Chapter 3

Fingers carefully checked his gear. All his service in the military – both infantry and Delta force – and his life on Pandora had reinforced that time spent in preparing your gear before a mission was time saved, not time wasted. Close friends had died because they had skimped on preparation time.

He didn't travel light, not like a Na'vi.

As he checked his crossbow, Fingers smiled as he remembered Se'ayl teasing him over his inaccuracy with a bow. Unlike her, he had not trained from infancy with the simple but deadly effective weapon. So he had the chief armourer turn him up a crossbow.

It wasn't just any crossbow, either. It was a mix of classic Earth design, based around a wooden stock, but integrated with a solar-powered optical sight from a sniper rifle. After he reprogrammed the sight, Fingers never missed – not if he took the time to take careful aim.

Se'ayl was very quiet about his shooting that day, at least to him. Later that evening, he overheard her boasting to her sister how accurate her mate was with his strange new bow. His heart had swelled at the pride and love he heard in her voice.

The memory made his heart ache, but in a good way.

His hand hesitated over his axe.

Fingers had grown up in the Pacific Northwest, in a little town deep in the mountains. There had been only two paths for a young man – to work as a logger, or to leave and join the services.

His father had done both, serving in the military as a young man, before returning to the place of his birth. He had been a man of few words, and was often amused by his voluble young son who never seemed to shut up. But he took the time to teach his son everything he knew about trees, about the right and proper way to bring a tree down, about how to dress and trim a tree so that nothing was wasted.

One of his sayings was that a good axe would never let a man down, as long as you kept the edge razor sharp, and oiled the wooden haft to prevent it cracking.

You never knew when you would need an axe, thought Fingers, so he slung it from a loop on his belt, just before he shouldered the pack.

* * *

Renshaw was waiting for him by the main gate.

"Boss," he nodded, and offered his hand.

Colonel Renshaw gripped Fingers' hand firmly, and looked him in the eyes. "Good luck."

"Thanks," replied Fingers. He didn't need to say how much he appreciated Renshaw's friendship and support, not in words. Words were unnecessary for them.

They released the handshake, Fingers nodded once, and walked out into the forest.

* * *

Sleep was becoming fraught with danger. More and more Galina was tearing off her exopack mask, until she began to fear the mere thought of falling asleep.

She began to put sleep off as long as possible, trying to exhaust herself so much that she wouldn't dream. It was only in dreams that Galina feared her foster father.

But it wasn't just fatigue that exhausted Galina.

Her entire body hurt, a dull persistent ever-present pain. The aching was particularly bad in her hands and feet, and her pelvis, but these were minor in comparison to the blinding migraines that came and went. These frightened her almost as much as the dreams of her foster father.

She was terrified that she had contracted some illness, an illness that would grind her resistance down, until she was helpless in the face of her dreams. She had been on the edge of returning to Hell's Gate several times, managing to push through the strength-sapping fatigue only by sheer bloody-mindedness.

Only the pups made her life bearable – and the absence of traitorous blue bastards.

* * *

Fingers had decided that searching for Uluta himself was probably the worst way to proceed. It would be better to enlist the help of the clans. They had the knowledge of the forest, and skill at tracking prey that he lacked.

If he asked the Na'vi to watch for a wayward tawtute woman, it might only take months rather than years to find Uluta. If she was still alive.

The first clan he visited were the Omaticaya, the birth-clan of Se'ayl. It was the right thing to do, if only to meet with her parents.

As chance would have it, the first Omaticaya he encountered was the father of Se'ayl.

"Ayzekwä! Oe ngati kameie," called out Änsit warmly.

His team name sounded much better in Na'vi than it did in English. He answered, "Sempul. It is good to see you also."

The middle-aged Na'vi warrior came up to Fingers and gripped both his forearms firmly. "It has been too many months since you visited us. Come, it will be time to eat soon. There is much news to talk of, before the meal."

"I must apologise, my father, for being absent so long," said Fingers. "It is not that I do not care. It is that I find it difficult..." The words stuck in his mouth.

"I understand, Ayzekwä" said Änsit, his eyes touched with sadness and concern. "Walk with me. The olo'eyktan will wish to speak with you."

They walked together in silence for several steps, towards Hometree, when Änsit broke the quiet. "My son, I too have an apology to make."

Fingers looked in surprise at the father of his late beloved.

"I was filled with misgivings when my daughter accepted your choice," started the Omaticaya. "Since I was a young man, I did not favour contact with the tawtute, and I was not backward in making my opinions known."

Fingers remembered well the stern face of disapproval from the father of Se'ayl, when they sought his blessing for their union. He was sure it was only at the prodding of her mother that a blessing was extracted from him.

"It was only seeing the joy of Se'ayl in your union, and your steadiness as her mate, that made me reconsider my views. Even then, I found your mating difficult to accept, and I resented the death of my daughter, feeling that somehow it was your fault."

He continued, "Tsa'peen, the healer of the Ikran People, came here and explained the nature of Se'ayl's death."

Fingers had not known that the Doc had taken this care, but she was good troop. She might be prickly, but no-one ever thought that her dedication to her calling was anything less than total.

"She told us our daughter's death could have happened at any time from birth, that it was mere chance, and that we should be blessed that Se'ayl had been granted the time that she had within the world."

Fingers said quietly, "Tsa'peen gave me the same message." He paused for a moment, adding, "It was hard for me to accept, also."

Änsit gripped Fingers' shoulder with one hand, making him stop. "This is why," he said to Fingers, "Why I must ask for your forgiveness for my resentment. It was unworthy of me as the father of Se'ayl, to doubt my daughter so much that I wished to disown her choice. I did not deserve her love."

A lump rose in Fingers' throat, and his eyes moistened. Even now the naked honesty and clarity of Na'vi emotions affected him deeply, and he had no doubt that Änsit felt deeply everything that he had just said. Fingers answered just as sincerely, "My father, there is nothing to forgive."

Their mutual embrace was short, but warm and full of shared joy and sorrow.

* * *

His interview with the man all Na'vi knew as Toruk Makto was lengthy and detailed. Zhake'soolly was surprisingly well informed with regards to the activities of the Unìltiranyu. He was strongly reminiscent of Colonel Renshaw, with the same command presence and aura of both friendship and extreme competence.

He had thought the interview was apparently over, having advised the purpose of his self-appointed mission, when Zhake'soolly said, "I understand that you have some skill at the felling of trees."

"Yes, sir," agreed Fingers, switching inadvertently from Na'vi to English. "My father taught me the skills of a lumberjack." He gave an impish grin. "Except for the singing part."

"Good," said the olo'eyktan, a half-smile flickering on his face. "There is a tree that is ailing, a tree that is in a dangerous position for the clan. You would honour the Omaticaya by felling this tree, tomorrow. With your grace, the timber from this tree will enrich the clan."

"Of course, sir," replied Fingers. He was well aware how rare it was for the Na'vi to fell a tree, and what a signal honour it was to be asked to undertake this duty. "The privilege will be mine."

"Excellent," announced Zhake'soolly. "Now we have that sorted, there are only two things to be settled."

"What are they, sir?" asked Fingers.

"Dinner, and how the hell you managed to acquire your team name."

"Well, sir, it's a long story..."

* * *

Galina was staggering with exhaustion. Arnold and Quisling both were expressing their concern at her distress, when she realised that she had to sleep, right now.

She managed to find a dry place, between the root buttresses of a large tree, and almost instantly fell asleep,

Her exhaustion did not protect Galina against her dreams.

All too soon she woke, gasping for air. This time, her exopack was not at hand. She staggered to her feet, feverishly searching for the only thing that she needed to keep her alive, when she spotted it fifty feet away, gleaming unnaturally in the soft blue light of Polyphemus.

Galina must have thrown it. She stumbled over to it, struggling for oxygen. She managed to pick it up, only to be filled with despair. The plastic of the visor had shattered, and her last thought before letting go to the darkness was that her foster father had finally broken her.


	4. Chapter 4

Zhake'soolly had been right. The tree was dangerous.

It loomed above the main trail from Hometree to the east, the early morning sunlight catching its impressive crown. Fingers used the blunt head of his axe to strike the main trunk, listening for the soundness of the timber. It was clear the main heartwood of the massive tree was rotten and decaying. He suspected the damage had been done some years ago by a lightning strike.

"What do you think?" asked the olo'eyktan.

Fingers bit his lower lip, and shook his head. "The tree could fall at any moment," he said finally. "It will be dangerous to bring down, very dangerous."

"Can you do this?" asked his mate. Fingers had heard the stories of how she had won the heart of the Toruk Makto, though her courage and beauty. All Na'vi of the world knew the name of Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite. She seemed to him very much of a handful, not like his sweet-tempered Se'ayl at all, but it was obvious that their mating was a true joining of souls.

After several seconds' consideration, Fingers replied slowly, "Yes. You will need to keep the clan well back, for their safety. I will show you where they must wait."

They walked back about eighty metres towards Hometree.

"Here," said Fingers. "If the clan watch from here, they will be safe."

Fingers smiled when he saw Neytiri open her mouth, only to be stopped speaking by Zhake'soolly stepping on her foot, and saying, "We will do as you say."

As he walked back to the tree, Fingers heard Neytiri complain, "I was only going to ask if he was sure."

Zhake'soolly scolded gently, "Ayzekwä knows what he is doing. What would you say if I questioned your stalking of a yerik..."

He did not hear the rest of the argument.

* * *

At the base of the tree, Fingers talked. Talked to the tree, telling it that it had a grand old life, but it was now time to die. In dying, it would be a gift to the Omaticaya if it did not kill or injure any of the clan, and that in return the clan would take its timber, and use it to make many things of use to the Omaticaya. In essence, it would become as one with the clan.

This is how Se'ayl would have talked to the tree, and Fingers did so to honour her memory.

He told the tree where he was going to cut, how deep the cuts would go and in what order, and when they were done which way the tree would fall. He assured the tree that in falling, it would not kill or injure other trees, but fall cleanly to the ground, its honour intact. Fingers told the tree where he would stand, and the path he would take to be safe.

All this took time, but at the end of it he was sure exactly what to do.

Fingers looked to the safety line, and was pleased to see Zhake'soolly had control of his people, keeping them exactly where he had said. He checked the edge of his axe, and satisfied that it was sharp enough, began to cut.

The steady ringing of steel biting into timber sounded through the forest, as Fingers worked slowly and methodically through his plan. He did not rush – more loggers had been killed by haste and carelessness than any other cause – but took his time.

Every now and then he would pause, and listen to the sound of the tree, making sure that the cut was going to plan. Sweat poured from his body – no-one ever said that felling trees was easy work, especially doing it the right way, without machines.

The trunk of the tree creaked slightly. Fingers paused, and wiped his hands on a cloth hanging from his belt. It would not do for the axe to slip in his hands – not now. He resumed the axe-strokes, listening for the crack...after three blows, there it was. It was almost there.

One more blow, and he felt the tremble of the ground under his bare feet. It was time to go.

Calmly, he shifted the grip on his axe and walked to his chosen safe point.

There was a barrage of cracks, like volleyed rifle fire. The tree groaned deeply, and then shook. With a roar, the tree rotated about fifteen degrees, tilted.

The death of a tree was compelling, even beautiful in a strange way. No-one could ever look away. The strange thing was that Fingers never heard them fall. The sadness in his heart overwhelmed his ability to hear.

Se'ayl had fallen the same way.

* * *

The clan gathered around the fallen forest giant. Many of the elder Omaticaya were weeping, no doubt remembering the fall of Old Kelutrel.

Zhake'soolly came to Fingers, and gripped his forearm in acknowledgement. The emotion on his face was strong, but unreadable. "A task well-completed," said the Toruk Makto.

"Irayo," responded Fingers awkwardly. It seemed the right thing to say

"I would know the name of your father," said Zhake.

Fingers half-shrugged. It seemed a reasonable request. "Tom."

Now he knew what emotion gripped Zhake'soolly. It was sadness.

The olo'eyktan lifted up his voice. "This man has completed a difficult task with grace, and honour." There was a murmur of agreement from the surrounding clans-people. "It is only fitting that the Omaticaya acknowledge his skill and integrity with a gift."

Many of the adults nodded, in concurrence with the words of their olo'eyktan.

"I was born tawtute," said the olo'eyktan. "So I know that the clan names of the tawtute have little or no meaning. For this man, this Unìltiranyu, such a name is not fitting."

There were cries of agreement from the gathered clan, and Fingers felt even more awkward.

"Therefore, the Omaticaya will give this man a new clan name," announced Zhake'soolly. "He will now be known by all Na'vi as Ayzekwä te Utralzup Tom'itan." He gripped Fingers in a warm embrace, to the cries of acclamation from the people of the Omaticaya.

Fingers was strangely affected by the gift. He knew how much names meant to the Na'vi, and how much respect he had just been granted.

All he could think was how proud Se'ayl would have been.

* * *

There was a muted celebration after the felling of the tree. A petite woman, easily the shortest of any Omaticaya adult, came up to him. It had been years since they had talked, ever since they were comrades on the assault of the starships.

"Na'dia," he acknowledged cautiously. This woman, despite her size and compelling beauty, was probably the most dangerous individual on the planet. He amended the thought, remembering watching a 'friendly' combat between Na'dia and his friend Sharon. There was another who was just as deadly.

"Fingers," said the woman, her voice warm and gracious. "It has been too long."

What the hell? This bitch had the coldest heart he had ever encountered. He looked closer, seeing the mask of the palulukan had been stripped away. The underlying savagery was still there, but now he could see the woman, not just the predator. He made an inconsequential noise of agreement.

"I was sorry to hear of the death of your mate," she said. "Se'ayl was a friend."

He made another inarticulate sound, gesturing helplessly with one hand.

Na'dia laughed, the richness of her voice surprising. "You are so very male, Fingers," she said in English.

"Se'ayl always said the same thing," replied Fingers, finding his voice.

She touched his arm in sympathy, and then looked to one side. He followed her gaze, seeing a handsome male holding the hand of a woman. "I could not imagine losing my mates..." She started, and then shook her head. "This is not why I came to speak to you."

"Oh?" he commented, falling back into inarticulate male mode.

She laughed again, before a serious expression settled on her face. "Your search for the missing tawtute woman," she stated. "I fear it may be in vain. I have not felt the presence of a tawtute in this range in the last six months." She tactfully did not call him a tawtute.

His fingers spread briefly in a gesture of acceptance of Na'dia's news. "Uluta may not have come this way," he said calmly. "The forest is large, and I expect the search will take time."

Na'dia hesitated. "Uluta. That is a Ukrainian name."

"Yes," agreed Fingers. "She was from Kiev, before the bomb."

He was surprised when Na'dia shivered, but not after what he heard next. "I, too, was in Kiev, when the bomb..." She did not finish her sentence, moving to leave his side, but paused to say, "Give her time to heal."

Fingers was not given opportunity to say anything else. Na'dia just seemed to vanish into thin air, and he did not see her again.

* * *

The following morning, when it was time to leave, a youth came to him. "Ayzekwä," he said. "I may have news for you."

Suddenly, Fingers was all ears.

"Some months ago, where the Omaticaya hunting grounds march against the land of the Tipani, I saw something." He hesitated for a moment. "Or perhaps it would be better to say, I did not see something."

Fingers tried to restrain his impatience. "What was it that you didn't see?"

The youth made an uncertain gesture. "It was not tawtute, and not nantang," said the young man. "My impression was it was like both, or neither. What I didn't see was...something else."

He had to ask. "How come is it that you know this, and the palulukan woman knows nothing?"

"Even the palulukan do not see what isn't there," replied the youth cryptically. He nodded, "Eywa ngahu."

As the youth moved away, Fingers called out, "Wait! What is your name?"

"Stxeli'tstal te Pesuholpxaype Tsawlontu'itan."

* * *

The woman stirred. Something was holding her against the ground, many fine tendrils that were dry and brittle. As she sat up, the tendrils crackled when they shifted and tore.

Her two nantang were there, bounding and playing, as though she had been gone many days. "'Rrno, Kizlun," she called them by name. "What is the matter with you?"

By their yelping and barking, the woman understood she had indeed been gone for a long while. It did not strike her to wonder where she had been. She looked at the thing she was holding in her hand. The woman somehow knew the thing was important, or rather had been important, but did not understand why this was so, or what it was. She shrugged to herself. When the time came, she would understand.

She embraced first Kizlun, and then 'Rrno, before retrieving her pack. She needed her bow and quiver, but needed to do something with the thing. It was probably still important, so she would keep it. A quick motion placed it securely inside, where it would be safe. There was plenty of room, and it wasn't heavy. The woman smiled. She was looking forward to running with her friends through the forest, before they hunted.

It did not seem strange to her that she had no name.


	5. Chapter 5

Over the following months, Fingers visited many of the Fifteen Clans, always seeking news of a missing tawtute woman, lost in the forest. He was received by every clan with respect, for he was known to be of the company that had finally defeated the tawtute. However, what appeared to be even more important was his knowledge of the felling of trees, for the news of his skill had preceded him from his stay with the Omaticaya.

He was asked to inspect trees whose health was suspect. With most, he advised that the time was not yet ripe, although he felled another tree at the clan of the Lì'ona. All agreed that the skill he displayed was very great, for everyone knew that a falling tree was perilous to life and limb, and where it would fall could not be predicted.

In the evenings, he spoke of the art of tree felling, how the tree talked to him, and guided his axe in his task. The clans-people listened intently, hanging on his every word.

Afterwards, mindful the words of the Omaticaya youth, he asked of any sightings that were unusual, that could not be explained, that could possibly be a tawtute woman. With each visit he was disappointed, although every clan promised to support his quest, and send news of anything strange.

* * *

There was only now.

Somehow, the woman knew that before she woke up, for some reason she had been very angry. That was before. In the present, in the here and now, she felt very differently.

Instead, the woman without a name was happy. She could not imagine anything better than being with 'Rrno and Kizlun, running through the forest.

However, she retained enough to remember that happiness was fragile, and that the tall blue people were the greatest threat. The woman resolved to keep her distance. If they were not close, then she, 'Rrno and Kizlun would be safe.

There were other dangers, of course. The black ones were fearsome, it was true, but they were easy enough to evade – the whole forest knew when a black one was near. They did not hunt in packs like the blue ones, nor did they ride through the air on the backs of the winged ones. There were places she could go where the black ones could not follow, but she knew the tall blue people were relentless hunters.

She also knew that she was changing, growing taller, and that she had not always had a tail. Even her hands and feet had changed. They had felt numb, until part of them peeled off, just like the hard-skinned ones with many legs changed their shells. Perhaps she was growing up, as had 'Rrno and Kizlun.

If it could always stay now, then the woman would always be happy.

She knew there was a word for how she felt, a very precious word.

Innocent.

* * *

The greeting he received from the Ikran People of the Eastern Sea was somewhat different than other clans. There, he was met by the Tsahik of the clan, and she greeted him in English rather than Na'vi. Or at least he thought it might have been English.

"G'day, ya dozy bludger," said Sharon, her Oz accent cutting the air like a knife. "I see you've finally extracted your digit, rather than moping about like a stunned mullet."

"Hi, Sharon," he replied. "It's good to see you too."

She laughed, and he grinned back. It had taken him some time to realise the way she spoke her native tongue was all a game, just to see if she could turn her friends cross-eyed trying to figure out what she said. Sharon was perfectly capable of speaking impeccable English, if she so desired. It was just she didn't desire it much.

Her Na'vi, on the other hand, was the most lyrical that he had ever heard – or anyone else, for that matter.

However, he knew how to get her back. "How's your daughter?"

Sharon groaned and rolled her eyes, before her face suddenly grew serious, and she switched to Na'vi. "The Ikran clan are honoured by your presence, Ayzekwä. However, I am curious as to your reason for coming to our home." She waved her hand at the stunted coastal vegetation. "There is little need for one of your undoubted skills and reputation, for dying trees are easily dealt with in this place."

"I seek news of a missing tawtute woman," he said.

The Tsahik of the Ikran People frowned deeply, and said, "Let us go where we may talk of your quest in comfort, and privacy."

It seemed a reasonable suggestion.

* * *

The place Sharon took him was hardly comfortable, being a simple shelter with a rack containing a number of surfboards in varying states of repair, a working bench, tools, and not much else. It was clearly a place she spent a lot of time.

"You realise that Uluta probably doesn't want to be found," stated Sharon.

It seemed her time as Tsahik hadn't changed Sharon that much. She had always been one for getting straight down to business.

"You've seen her," accused Fingers. "Or someone of your clan."

Sharon shook her head. "No," she said. "But I know she is still alive."

"How?" demanded Fingers, and then he realised, his face crestfallen. "Oh. The Tsahik thing."

"Yes, the Tsahik thing," agreed the Tsahik. She continued, "In answer to your next question, I don't know where she is – it's not like GPS. Although you could tell me why you are looking so hard." Her eyes dropped suggestively to Fingers' groin before returning to his face.

Fingers coughed and spluttered at the brazen nature of the question, especially the blatant innuendo of Sharon's tone.

"So you like her," she nodded. His reaction was exactly what Sharon had expected. "I am sure Se'ayl would be happy to know you have decided to live, rather than wallow in misery for the rest of your life."

"No!" he protested, shocked at the blunt suggestion, especially that he would discard his loyalty to his dead mate. "I've only seen her once, and then the psycho tawtute bitch pulled a gun on me!"

Sharon flung a hand to her forehead theatrically and sighed, "True love..."

Fingers muttered something extremely uncomplimentary under his breath.

"Seriously, David," she said, surprising him. Fingers had never told Sharon his tawtute birth name. "If you really are looking for this woman, do not hunt her. Renshaw sent me her personnel jacket. She's had a really tough time, and hunting her down will be the worst possible thing to do."

"Can I look at it?" he demanded. "There may be clues..."

Sharon snarled, "No!" She took a deep breath. "Seal of the confessional, and all that kind of stuff – besides, you haven't been listening. If you want to know what she's been through, you'll have to ask her yourself. I'm not going to tell you."

"But..." objected Fingers, trying to think of how he could compel her to give up the intel. What a joke. Compel one of the deadliest soldiers he had ever seen.

She merely raised an eyebrow.

He sighed, "So what do I do?"

"Wait for Uluta to come to you," answered Sharon. "If Eywa means for you to meet again, then it will happen, at the right time. Your touring woodchopper gig will give her opportunity to find you, even though she won't be looking."

Fingers sighed again, "Ok."

"Now we've had the business chat," said Sharon, "the fun comes next. You told me once that you surfed as a kid."

"Yes," he agreed cautiously.

"Now's your chance to prove it," she stated. At his look of dismay, she wondered what expression he would wear the next time he met Uluta. She was hardly the person Fingers would be expecting, not any more.

It was a pity she wasn't going to be a fly on the wall at that little event.

* * *

Kizlun would not come. Instead, he hung back and whimpered, looking down a game trail to the left of their path. The woman walked back and knelt by her friend, stroking his smooth skin. She could tell he really wanted to go down this trail, that there was something important down there.

"'Rrno," she called out, summoning her other friend.

His sister came bounding back from the lead, and then instantly stopped, gazing down the side trail with intense focus. The decision had been made.

After only few steps down the side trail the woman heard it too. She broke into a flat run, a run that lasted less than a hundred metres before she stopped dead in shock.

The noise she had heard was a young blue one, sitting in the middle of the trail crying. Two competing voices screamed in her head. One was shouting that it was a blue one, that it was dangerous, while the other, more insistent voice was lower pitched. It was only a child, a lost child.

The woman was torn between the need to run, and the need to do something else. She had once been lost, and had hoped that someone would find her. Her teeth bit anxiously into her lower lip, but before she knew it the child was in her arms and she was making small noises to comfort it.

'Rrno and Kizlun sniffed at the child in her arms. The child stopped crying, and reached out a tiny hand to pat 'Rrno. The viperwolf submitted to the caress with only a small grumble.

The woman knew what had to be done, although the thought of it made her tremble inside. A nest of the tall blue ones was not far. This child needed to be returned to them. She swallowed nervously – it would be dangerous, but she should be able to evade the blue ones if she did not venture too close.

* * *

This was close enough, thought the woman. Any closer and an adult blue one might see her. She set the child down and pointed in the direction that he had to go.

He smiled at her and said, "Irayo." He looked along the pathway back to his home, and then looked back to the woman, but she was gone. He thought about chasing after her, but then his tummy rumbled. He was hungry, so he trotted along the path home.

It seemed the right thing to do.

* * *

Tsenu rushed towards her son, sweeping him up into her arms, her heart sick with worry. "Where have you been?" she scolded.

"I was lost in the forest, sa'nu," said her son. "I walked too far, and got turned around too many times."

"How did you get home, silly little man?" she said affectionately. "Did one of the hunters find you and bring you home?" Tsenu would have to thank whoever it was.

"No," said the boy truthfully. "Nantangte found me, and showed me the way." He frowned a little, a faint line appearing between his brows. "I don't think she knows how to talk."

Nantangte? Wolfwoman? Tsenu knew no-one burdened by this ill-omened name.

Then she did the only thing she could think of. She took her son to the clan Tsahik, and had him recount the entire story.


	6. Chapter 6

The nameless woman felt strange after returning the child, almost as though something was missing inside her. A part of her wanted to go back to the blue people nest, to where she released the child. She wanted...she did not know what she wanted.

They would be looking for her, she knew. The child would talk, and it would not be safe. The blue ones would hunt her down.

There was only one thing to do.

She went deeper into the forest, confusing her trail so none could follow.

* * *

The Tsahik of the Rongloa questioned the boy. "Was she tawtute?"

The boy answered in his piping voice, "I have never seen a tawtute. What do they look like?

The old woman smiled, but it did not look like a real smile to the boy. She was scary. "Did Nantangte look like a woman from the clan?"

The boy said, "Nantangte is tall like sa'nu. She is very pretty, especially her face markings." He giggled. "She wasn't wearing any clothes."

"Why do you all her Nantangte?"

It was a silly question, thought the boy. "She has two nantang – one is a boy nantang, and the other a girl."

The old woman frowned. All knew that nantang were vicious and untrustworthy creatures, and unlike pa'li or ikran could not be tamed. Since the boy said she was as tall as his mother, she could not be the missing tawtute woman of Ayzekwä. The coming of the tawtute had been a great shock to her, and she had learned her lesson. Anything strange or unusual must be studied, to see if it was a threat to the People.

"Summon the hunters," she ordered Tsenu. "This woman must be captured and brought before the clan."

The boy looked worried. "You're not going to hurt her?" he asked anxiously.

"No, my child," replied the Tsahik. "I just want to talk to her."

* * *

The woman ran for a day and a night and a day, and another night and day, leaving the nest of the blue ones far behind. She was tired, so very tired. The pursuit of the tall blue ones was relentless.

The obscuring of her trail had not been enough. She had not counted on the blue ones leaping ahead of her on the backs of the winged ones. No matter what she did, she could not break the pursuit. She had sent 'Rrno and Kizlun away, so the hunters would not hurt them. They had not wanted to leave, as they insisted their strength was in the numbers of the pack. It was only when she explained to them that the hunters would be looking for the mix of their prints that they agreed to go.

If she survived this, the woman had no doubt that 'Rrno and Kizlun would find her.

* * *

Fingers sat at the mouth of a small cave, idly running his whetstone over the edge of his axe. He had been fortunate to find this place, after the heavens had opened. Fingers was not in favour of walking in a downpour, particularly when he was in no hurry to get anywhere.

Besides, the many bruises and scrapes he had acquired from multiple dumpings needed a little time to heal. He grinned to himself – Fingers had forgotten how much fun catching waves was. The only downer was now he had an extreme case of jealousy for Sharon's incredible skill on a board. If there had been a professional surfing league on Pandora, she would be right at the top.

His ears pricked.

The faint cries of a Na'vi hunting party calling back and forth made him stand upright, changing the grip on his axe. If they drove their prey into this clearing, he wanted a good chance to defend himself...and they were getting closer.

* * *

A Na'vi woman burst into the clearing, and stopped dead.

He said, "Galina?"

The woman was shocked still. She had run straight into a trap set by the blue ones, driven by the hunters into this clearing. She was sure it was the end, when the blue one said a word...Galina.

She knew that word. It was more than knowing the word. She knew the blue one. Perhaps...

* * *

It couldn't possibly be Uluta, but her face. She was full Na'vi, not an Avatar, but her face could have been made from the same mould as the Ukrainian. The Na'vi woman who wasn't Uluta was naked, her only accoutrements a Marine Ka-Bar knife strapped to one thigh, a pack still bearing the symbol of the RDA, and a bow. She looked dead beat.

Somehow Fingers knew that she was prey for the hunters.

"In here," he hissed, beckoning her with one hand. "Hide." Indecision flickered over her face for seconds, until an ululating cry sounded through the forest.

The woman apparently made her choice. She dashed past Fingers and into the cave behind him.

Fingers touched his throat mike, and muttered, "Hell's Gate Tower, this is Fingers. I need a gunship vectored to my position now, loaded for bear. Authentication Mandarin. Over."

"Fingers, this is Hell's Gate Tower. We have your request. A chopper will be over your position in approximately twenty-three minutes. Over."

He was in so much shit. "Tower, I will be leaving an open mike, so you can monitor my tactical situation. Over."

"Roger. Acknowledge your open mike."

There was nothing else to do. Fingers sat down, and resumed sharpening his axe. He didn't have long to wait.

* * *

The woman hid in the cave, shivering from a combination of fright and exhaustion. Why had she accepted the protection of the blue one? Was it because he knew her?

* * *

Five Na'vi ran into the clearing, and had exactly the same initial reaction to Fingers' presence as did the woman who wasn't Uluta. They stopped dead.

Fingers' eyes narrowed. The hunters bore the clan marks of the Rongloa on their loincloths. If that was the case, they were a long way out of their normal territory. It would be interesting to see how this played out. "I see you, aytaronyu," he said as he stood up.

The oldest of the hunters sketched out a greeting with a perfunctory gesture that was almost an insult. "A woman came here," he said. "Which way did she go?"

This was going to get ugly, he thought. The guy was all business, not even asking his name. Finger smiled, "She did not go anywhere. I offered her the protection of my campfire, and she accepted with grace."

The hunter took a step forward. "You must surrender her to us."

Fingers smiled broadly, a smile that did not touch his eyes. "No."

"No?" The hunter's voice rose incredulously, as though he could not believe what he was hearing.

Some explanation of his position seemed appropriate, so Fingers expanded, "You have strayed a long way from your normal range, hunter of the Rongloa. These are the lands of the Ikran People. I am afraid that custom does not give you the right to demand anything in this place, particularly to demand custody of a guest who has accepted my hospitality."

"What would a filthy tawtute know of custom?" sneered the hunter. "You are a foreigner here also."

"The Ikran People have given me leave to roam their lands," stated Fingers to the disbelieving hunter, "As I am friend and blood-brother to their Tsahik." It was clear that he had just taken the wind out of his opponent's sails. To press his advantage, he decided to take a different track, if only to spin out the time, time for the chopper to arrive. "Tell me, why do you seek this woman?"

"Our Tsahik has ordered it," was the blunt answer, as if that was sufficient reason.

"Why?" asked Fingers reasonably. "Has she committed a crime?"

"No," conceded the hunter reluctantly, the words ground out from between clenched teeth. "She was within the lands of the Rongloa without leave."

"That does not seem to be a serious matter worthy of the attention of the Tsahik," commented Fingers.

"I think that is a matter for the Rongloa to decide," snarled the hunter, scenting an advantage.

Oops, thought Fingers, as another five Rongloa drifted into the clearing. He had just lost ground, in more ways than one. He resolved to see how much longer he could spin this battle of words out before the chopper arrived. "Tell me, is she accused of anything else?" queried Fingers.

"She has consorted with nantang, with the eaters of carrion," replied the hunter. It was clear to Fingers that the hunter thought he was on a winner here.

"So you hold that nantang are not children of Eywa, and have no part in the circle of existence," mused Fingers, blessing his education in logic from a Jesuit brother. He shook his head sadly. "I had not thought the Rongloa were so narrow-minded." He saw the hunter open his mouth to interject, but no words came out of his mouth. "I have seen wild ikran eat carrion. Does this mean that the Rongloa will abandon the ways of flight, and release their ikran into the wild?"

"No!" shouted the hunter. "The Rongloa will never give up their ikran."

"If ikran eat carrion, as do nantang, then the woman has not committed any crime by consorting with nantang," said Fingers reasonably. "If this is not so, then the Rongloa are guilty of the same crime."

"But nantang eat much more carrion than ikran," objected the hunter. His expression showed his awareness that he was on shaky ground.

"How much more carrion?" asked Fingers. "Sixty-four times?"

"Yes," snarled the hunter.

"How many ikran do the Rongloa fly?" continued Fingers. "I have heard they are a large clan, with many ikran."

"Four sixty-fours," answered the hunter proudly.

"Then together, one quarter of the Rongloa hunters have committed the same crime as this woman," said Fingers, continuing his reasonable tone. "Are they to be accused by your Tsahik in four groups?"

The hunter crossed his arms. "I am not interested in having this discussion any further," he stated. "Surrender the woman."

It looked as though time had run out. Fingers shook his head sadly. "I am afraid you have not given me any reason to comply with your request, so I regretfully decline."

"You cannot!" snapped the hunter, infuriated by the intransigence of this upstart Unìltiranyu.

"But I just have," insisted Fingers calmly. He suspected his opponent was about to throw a tantrum, or the adult equivalent.

"I call challenge," said the hunter.

This was it. No backing out now. "I accept your challenge," replied Fingers, well aware that refusal to do so would compel him to surrender the woman who wasn't Uluta. "I specify hand-to-hand combat, with no weapons."

"Very well," said the hunter, looking a trifle disappointed that he would not have the pleasure of spilling Fingers' guts on the ground.

A voice murmured in his ear. "Fingers, this is Tower. Do not respond. The chopper will be there in a couple of minutes. Renshaw is listening, and wants you to spin it out without hurting the guy. He would prefer you to not start a war with the Rongloa."

"My clansmen will be here shortly," said Fingers, noting that the number of Rongloa had increased to just over twenty. "Could we delay the challenge until they arrive? I am sure they would appreciate seeing the skill of the Rongloa."

"No," said the hunter. "It must be now."

Fingers leaned the axe against the mouth of the cave. At least he could trust in the honour of the Na'vi not to try and snatch the woman who wasn't Uluta while the fight was in progress. They weren't human, after all.


	7. Chapter 7

While he wasn't an unarmed combat instructor like Sharon, Fingers was no slouch in hand to hand. The Na'vi had not evolved anything like the martial arts of Earth, so he had some confidence that he could put this dude away in reasonably short order. Following events might be a little more difficult to predict.

These thoughts were running through his head as he unbuckled his belt, and loosened up his neck and shoulders. "Are you ready?" he asked.

The hunter curled his lip in a sneer. "Yes."

Fingers nodded in acknowledgement, taking up a guard position. The onlooking Rongloa cheered as the hunter launched forward with a yell, flinging blows in rapid succession. Fingers backed up, swaying and blocking, ducking and weaving, trying to avoid getting hit, or getting involved in a grappling match. Still, some blows got through, and the guy sure didn't hit like a girl – his fists were like sledgehammers. The slippery ground didn't help either.

He threw out a few counters, testing the hunter's defence. It was better than he had suspected – Fingers suspected that if he wasn't careful, he would end up looking at the stars, while tweety-birds circled his head.

For a moment it seemed the birds would be his reality, due to a roundhouse punch that clipped the side of his head. Fingers' head rang like a bell, and for a moment he did not hear the distant sound of a gunship flying low and fast. He knew another blow like the last one would knock him out. It was time.

A solid block caught on his right allowed him to rip a left right up under the hunter's rib cage. His opponent gasped for air, dropping his guard. A vicious hook snapped the hunter's head to the right. The hunter lifted his fists, only for Fingers to step in closer and deliver a three-punch combination to the torso, followed by a devastating uppercut to the point of the jaw.

Fingers stepped back as slowly, ever so slowly the hunter toppled backwards, like a tree falling in the forest, to crash loose-limbed on the forest floor. The hunter was out for the count.

The watching Rongloa had been cheering their own, and jeering his feeble performance. Now there was just a brief shocked silence, the lack of sound almost immediately replaced by the roar of a Samson gunship flaring over head. It hovered, blasting air and fine mist over the ring of Na'vi below.

A descent rope fell from the chopper, closely followed by a figure fast-roping to the ground. "Fingers," said Renshaw. The colonel was the most heavily muscled of all the Unìltiranyu, making the assault rifle slung across his back look like a toy. He tugged the rope once, before turning to face the Rongloa. "I see you," he stated calmly, making the gesture of greeting as though he was Na'vi born.

As entries rated, this was well up there with the best.

The Rongloa hunters murmured a collective greeting, while Fingers' late opponent stirred, futilely attempting to return to his feet before collapsing back to the ground. It seemed he was out for the count.

Renshaw stated, "I am Renshaw, olo'eyktan of the Unìltiranyu. It has been suggested to me by my brother Ayzekwä that there has been some disagreement here."

There was some consternation amongst the Rongloa, interrupted by the only female amongst them. She looked with contempt at her fellows, before saying, "Yes. We have been pursuing the woman in the cave."

"She has been offered the protection of the campfire by my brother, and accepted," said Renshaw. "By the laws of hospitality, unless she is a lawbreaker, or of the clan of the Rongloa, no Unìltiranyu can surrender her."

The woman nodded. "I had not expected an Unìltiranyu to have this understanding of law. My brother was wrong to dispute this with Ayzekwä."

Fingers wasn't surprised what Renshaw said next. He had known and admired his commander ever since they first met one Earth.

"If the Tsahik of the Rongloa sends a message with her questions for this woman, I will endeavour to obtain answers for her," said Renshaw. He smiled at the expression of surprise on the woman's face, before he added seriously, "I cannot warrant that she will give me any answer."

"The reputation of the wisdom and honour of Ren'zhore, olo'eyktan of the Unìltiranyu, has not been understated," said the woman. There is only one thing I would ask. What is the woman's name, so the Rongloa may know her?"

Fingers said, "Galina."

He had to give Renshaw his due. There was no trace of surprise on the man's face.

"Thank you," said the woman. She looked at the other Rongloa before saying, "We will depart the lands of the Ikran People now, in peace."

* * *

After they had gone, Fingers said, "Don't worry, Boss. I didn't believe it either."

"The Rongloa did not say she was tawtute," replied Renshaw.

"She isn't," stated Fingers. "Private Galina Stefanova Uluta is full Na'vi."

The former Marine colonel said flatly, "That's impossible."

"Just like Nadia is part thanator and can disappear in front of your eyes," quipped Fingers. "I thought living on Pandora had changed your view on what was possible."

Renshaw chuckled. "Good point." A serious expression killed his expression of amusement, and he added, "She'll have to come back to Hell's Gate, so the boffins can have a look at her."

"No," growled Fingers. He flexed his hands once, to control a sudden rush of temper. "If we take her back to Hell's Gate without her consent, we will be no better than the Rongloa. I will not be party to such an abrogation of our honour."

Now Renshaw did look surprised. He cocked his head to one side to examine his clansman and former subordinate. There was a silence of several seconds before he spoke. "You know, Fingers, I think you are more Na'vi than the Na'vi."

"Sorry, Boss," replied Fingers. There was even a note of apology in his voice.

Renshaw chuckled again, "It would be a good idea if you can get proof of your assertion as to her identity, if only to shut up the brainiacs back at base."

"Yes, Boss," agreed Fingers. "I'll even let you know how it turns out."

"Ok," said Renshaw. He muttered into his throat mike. Within ten seconds the orbiting gunship was hovering over their position, a rope falling through the overhead foliage. As he grabbed the extraction rope to be winched out, the olo'eyktan added, "It better be a fucking good story."

* * *

On entering the cave, Fingers was not really surprised to find the woman who either was or wasn't Uluta had fallen asleep. Then a yawn almost dislocated his jaw, and he realised he had had a busy day. There was only one thing to be done.

Fingers woke once during the night, to find an unexpected source of warmth behind him, and an arm flung over his torso. It had been a long time since he had been spooned – he had forgotten how pleasant it was. A smile crept over his face, and he closed his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

The woman gazed down at the sleeping blue one. She felt a strange reluctance to leave him. For some reason she could not fathom, the blue one had protected her from the other blue ones, the ones who had hunted her.

She had missed the warmth of 'Rrno and Kizlun as she slept. Normally, they slept entwined, sharing their body heat against the cool of the night. When she woke this morning, before dawn, she had been confused for a moment. It was not so surprising that she had moved in her sleep, to receive the shared heat she craved. The warmth of the blue one's body had felt so safe, but it was also very wrong. This was not her place, to be with a blue one.

There was a soft yelp from the edge of the clearing, outside the cave. Kizlun was calling for her, eager to start the day's hunt. She had always been more vocal than her brother.

Her lips shaped around the sound that the blue one had made when they met. Galina. He had known her, had known her name, the name the woman had forgotten. Her name was Galina. Impulsively, her hand dipped into her pack, pulling out the thing that had once been so important. She placed it next to his sleeping face, where he could not fail to see it when he woke.

The blue one stirred.

Galina flinched at the sudden movement. It was no longer safe for her here. She knew that if remained here any longer, here with the blue one, something would change, something would change her from her current state of happiness.

There was a brief feeling of regret as Galina left the cave to join her pack, but it was only for a moment.

* * *

Fingers was not surprised to find that Galina had left while he was still asleep. The brief sight he had of her in daylight had shown her to be very different from the angry woman at Hell's Gate – and not just in body. Her face was like that of a frightened child, yet strangely was more innocent than fearful.

He was surprised that she had left him a gift. The exopack's plastic visor had shattered, rendering it useless. Fingers supposed the gesture was something of a declaration. A quick examination uncovered the serial number, and compared it to the gear issued to Galina on his datapad. It was a match, although hardly the smoking gun that would be demanded by the boffins. They would require a much higher level of proof than a serial number to fully accept Galina's reality.

Fortunately, he was in a position to provide some of that proof. Fingers had no doubt that an interesting mix of DNA had been deposited on the exopack seal. He recorded a quick v-mail and dispatched it off to the Boss. It was a fair bet a chopper would be returning to retrieve the evidence.

Part of the standard RDA survival kits was a selection of sample bags. For some obscure reason, this issue had never been changed by the new management of Hell's Gate. In this case, Fingers blessed the bureaucratic inertia, and crammed the broken exopack into the largest of the bags. That would prevent any further contamination of the exopack remains, and keep the boffins off his back. He swore softly under his breath due to the seal not cooperating. Sometimes, human technology seemed designed to frustrate rather than simplify.

Where next?

* * *

Over the next several months, rumours of Nantangte spread amongst the Fifteen Clans. No Na'vi adult ever saw her, although a very few hunters came across the tracks of a woman intermingled with those of two nantang. The tracks could never be followed far before they disappeared.

The story of the Rongloa hunt and its end in the confrontation with Ayzekwä te Utralzup Tom'itan spread with the rumours. Fingers was asked by all the clans he visited to tell of his experience. He was reluctant at first, though soon realised his increasing notoriety made keeping his mouth shut impossible.

He was able to tell his listeners that Nantangte was a tawtute. All were amazed when he related the results of the analysis from the broken exopack. The scientists found a range of DNA samples – the oldest pure human, and the newest Na'vi. The strangest were transitional forms of intermediate age, akin to the first studies in the production of viable Avatars. The boffins were still arguing over their significance. Fingers, on the other hand, had no doubts over the real story. He had seen the faces of both Uluta and Nantangte, and knew her for the same woman.

However, there were Na'vi that had seen Nantangte and her brother and sister, her siblings that walked and ran on six legs. Not one of them was over the age of ten.

Each child told much the same story. A few were lost, like the first child, and she guided then home. Others were sad. To them she would give a gift, always the same – a small carving of a running nantang, skilfully wrought from a dark timber that reflected the natural colours of the beasts. The life within each carving was remarkable. The artist clearly understood the spirit of the nantang. Actually, that was wrong – it was more than mere understanding.

She lived that spirit.

All the children agreed on one thing. Nantangte never spoke.

The stories were wrong on two counts. One adult Na'vi had seen Nantangte, and knew that she could speak.

* * *

"Why did you protect me from the blue ones, the hunters?" demanded a voice in halting Na'vi

Fingers spun around. Galina was there, her left hand resting on the front shoulder of one of her nantang. Both of the animals were focused on him, totally focused. Without being told, Fingers knew that if he made the slightest move towards a weapon, they would rip him apart.

It had been six weeks since the confrontation with the hunters of the Rongloa.

"Why do you lead lost children home?" answered Fingers.

"I am no child," she stated coolly.

"No, you are no child," he agreed. "Nor are you lost." Fingers gazed steadily back her, looking deep into her eyes, before he gave his answer. "I stopped the hunt because it was the right thing."

Slowly, Galina nodded in understanding. "A good answer." She tilted her head to one side, clearly considering him...for what? "There is something else I would understand. How do you know my name? How did you know me?"

"You don't remember," he said, puzzled. When she made no response to his statement, he extemporised, "I encountered you once before...before you became as you are now." Somehow he understood that she did not remember her life.

Anger flared in her eyes. "I do not wish to know this," she snarled. The woman who had once been tawtute spun on her heels and faded into the forest. The nantang did not immediately follow her. Instead, the two animals lingered for a few seconds, making it abundantly clear he was not to pursue Galina.

Fingers received the message loud and clear.


	9. Chapter 9

The Rongloa were counted amongst the Fifteen Clans. It had occurred to Fingers that if he did not visit them, like he had visited most of the loose grouping of Na'vi clans, it might be seen to be a slight on their honour. However, he was acutely aware he had been the key player in an incident that provided some embarrassment against their name, and suspected his welcome might be less than friendly.

It looked like his fears were about to be confirmed when he was conducted directly into the presence of their Tsahik. She was old, one of the oldest Na'vi Fingers had ever encountered.

She was sitting cross-legged in a leafy bower, looking disconcertingly like a Na'vi version of Buddha. The Tsahik indicated with a graceful gesture of a wrinkled hand that he should join her. A little flustered, he lowered his body to the ground, but did not utter the usual Na'vi greeting. It just did not seem appropriate.

The Tsahik observed him without words for several minutes before she spoke. "You are not as hasty as most of your Unìltiranyu brethren, Ayzekwä."

This was going to be one of _those_ conversations. The type where there were many layers of meaning, most of them disturbing. "A tree must be considered from many angles before ever swinging an axe," he replied. "To do otherwise is to risk death or dismemberment."

"A worthy metaphor," she commented blandly, her head nodding once. Her action only increased her resemblance to the Buddha. "Some amongst the Rongloa were disconcerted by your action in defending Nantangte."

"Her name is Galina," corrected Fingers, a little heat entering his voice. She was a person, a real person with needs and hurts and all the other baggage of a sapient being, not some mythological creature.

"You are correct," replied the Tsahik serenely, not disturbed at all by the correction. "Although she may be named Galina, this is not who she is." She smiled at Fingers, suddenly displaying the shadows of what had once been a luminous beauty. "I see you do not agree with me."

Fingers reply was blunt. "No."

"The path that Eywa sets in life sometimes changes the face one shows the world," was her reply. "Zhake'soolly was a crippled tawtute, a warrior without the ability to fight, a man without a purpose. Eywa changed his journey to that of Toruk Makto, and olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya. Yet, still he is Zhake'soolly."

Fingers had not been wrong about the nature of this conversation.

She continued, "Eywa has set a different path for the woman you know as Galina. Life is often difficult for those chosen so." The expression in her face had turned...sympathetic? Why?

He decided to change the topic of discussion. "I came to the Rongloa to fulfil the promise of Renshaw, olo'eyktan of the Unìltiranyu."

The Tsahik made a slight gesture of assent. "An honourable man, by all accounts," she commented. He noted that she tactfully did not make reference to his tawtute birth. "I only have one question, although I suspect I already have the answer." She sighed, and then spoke. "Is Nantangte a threat to the safety of our children?"

His lips thinned. The Tsahik knew very well the answer he would give. "No."

"I do not mean to give offence," said the old woman. "Regrettably, my duty to protect the clan from harm takes precedence over my obligation to kin."

"But I am not kin," objected Fingers. "Nor is Galina."

Now the old woman looked amused. "My grandson mated with a woman of the Omaticaya. His son named his daughter to honour his father's grandmother."

The penny dropped. "Your name is Se'ayl."

As the Tsahik made the gesture of assent, she said, "It sorrowed me to hear of your mate's death, so young. I had looked forward to having Unìltiranyu as kin." Her eyes twinkled. "It would be to the advantage of the Rongloa to claim a warrior as respectful of law and custom as yourself, particularly as the son of my granddaughter is a grave disappointment."

Fingers laughed, understanding that her disappointing descendant had been his opponent. He also realised that smoothing over incidents like the confrontation was a key part of maintaining peace between the clans. "I would be honoured to acknowledge my ties to the Rongloa."

The Tsahik replied, "Good, but there is one more thing I require from you, Ayzekwä, though it may cause you pain. I would hear of the life of the granddaughter of my grandson, from one who loved her."

His eyes suddenly filled with tears. He could not deny this request, not from this woman. Haltingly, he began to tell the story of how he met and courted Se'ayl, and of their short life together.

As the Unìltiranyu named Ayzekwä te Utralzup Tom'itan spoke of his love for her great-great-granddaughter, the Tsahik of the Rongloa felt sadness for this man, and feared for his spirit. Though he was not born Na'vi, the grief and anguish he felt at her loss was still raw and deep, honouring the memory of her descendant as well as any born within the embrace of Eywa. But it was not his grief that concerned her, for grief was a natural thing.

She understood that Eywa had chosen Nantangte as she had chosen Toruk Makto. She also knew that those whose life threads were tangled with the chosen ones did not have a clear path through life, and it did not always end well.

It was as clear as the sun in the sky that Ayzekwä's fate was bound with that of Nantangte.

* * *

The hospitality of the Rongloa had been both generous and lengthy. Fingers left their territory with his heart lighter than it been for many years, and he knew why. He had not been able to talk to anyone of Se'ayl before, not really. Though Sharon had been a tower of strength in his worst time of grief, there had been things he could not tell even her.

The difference was that he owed a duty to tell Se'ayl's ancestor of her life, a duty of blood. Though it sometimes pained him, Fingers had always done his duty.

Unloading his heart to another who cared released some of his grief.

That was why he was whistling Dixie, so to speak, and not taking note of his surroundings. The buzz of the arrow past his face was entirely unexpected, as was the dull sound of it striking the tree trunk he was passing.

Fingers froze.

Galina stepped out from cover, her bow slung though her knife was in her left hand. Fingers did not move a muscle. She had been raised by an ex-Spetsnatz trooper, and from personal experience Fingers knew all those monkeys were rated expert at knife-throwing.

"Traitor," she accused, her voice low but intense. The two nantang prowled around him, as though they were considering inviting him to their next meal. "You went to the lair of the ones who hunted me." As Galina uttered her condemnation, she advanced upon his position.

There was only one thing he could say in his defence. "It was the right thing."

An inarticulate cry, almost animalistic, exploded from her throat. She leapt at him, swinging her knife down, the killing blow aimed directly at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Fingers blocked the vicious blow, turning into the attack. Somehow, as Galina fell forward she twisted and grabbed at him, bringing Fingers down with her.

They rolled on the forest floor, battling for control. She managed to slash him lightly across the chest before he captured her left wrist when they collided into the tree struck by her arrow. Unfortunately for Fingers, Galina had the superior position. While she tried to break his hold, Fingers grabbed her other wrist and pinned her leg in a thigh lock. Galina struggled briefly against his hold before she stopped, her chest heaving and eyes burning with emotion.

As she glared down at him, her face inches from his, Fingers thought he had never seen any visage as savage and beautiful.

Impulsively, Fingers lifted his head and kissed Galina on the lips.

It was then Fingers had the biggest surprise of his life. Galina kissed him back, her lips soft and welcoming.

The kiss lasted either an eternity, or a few brief seconds. It was impossible to tell.

When it ended, there was a moment of stillness, while they gazed into each other's eyes. When Galina resumed struggling and snarling, Fingers let her go. He knew all that she wanted was to get away. She leapt up, snatched her arrow from the tree and was gone before he regained his feet.

What the fuck just happened?


	10. Chapter 10

Galina was confused.

The blue one had betrayed her, by going to the place of the blue ones that had hunted her. But when she attacked him for his betrayal, he did not strike back. She knew now that he was stronger than her, a skilled warrior, and could have easily killed her.

All he had done was defend his body from her knife.

She touched her lips with the fingers of her left hand. When his lips had caressed hers, her anger faded like the morning mist.

'Rrno and Kilzun pressed close against her side, feeling her distress.

What did sharing of lips mean?

It would be better to stay away from all blue ones, even the young who offered her no threat. Instead, she would stay deep in the forest, safe with her brother and sister.

She would be safe, away from things that made disturbing thoughts, things that created anger.

* * *

A crushing sense of guilt descended on Fingers. For a moment, he had wanted Uluta, his blood burning for her. It was as though his love for Se'ayl had never existed.

He felt like a traitor.

No, he didn't feel like a traitor. He was a traitor.

A traitor to himself, and to Se'ayl.

* * *

She couldn't do it.

No matter how she felt, Galina felt a compulsion to go to the places of the blue ones, despite the danger.

It wasn't that she craved thrills. The rush of her blood on the hunt with 'Rrno and Kizlun was more than enough excitement. Galina caressed the head of Kizlun as she remembered with a smile yesterday's chase of a yerik. The prey, though old and slow, had been cunning, almost slipping away from her on three occasions.

She resumed carving the wood in her hand, shaving off thin slivers with her knife. Galina enjoyed the finding the shape of her brother or sister inside the wood. It was soothing, making the currents within her spirit smooth, like the flowing waters of a deep river. But now, it wasn't enough.

Watching the young blue ones at play created strange feelings in her heart, a longing for joy and sharing, a desire to hold...Galina just wanted...

A hot tear sprang from one eye, clouding her vision, at least that showing the outer world. Within her spirit, Galina saw what she wanted, however much she wanted to deny it.

A child.

* * *

Fingers found his feet carrying him away from the lands of the Rongloa, heading towards the coast. The path he followed took him over a mountain range, full of deep canyons and towering cliffs. He knew that Galina had come this way. He knew how long the Rongloa pursued her, and marvelled that she came so far so fast.

Though the lands of the Rongloa marched with those of the Ikran People, few came this way. The country was too rugged, and the forest too dense to support large game. There was no reason for Na'vi of either clan to be here.

It was good to be out here, where there was no chance of being disturbed. He needed time to think, time alone. Perhaps that was why he was not quite as careful with his footing as usual, clambering over some rocky scree.

The slab of smooth rock he stepped on was slick with water, a thin layer of algae coating its surface. Normally, it would have caused no problem, but it shifted under his weight. With a yell, Fingers slipped and fell heavily, his head striking another rock with a sickening thud.

The blackness claimed him.

* * *

"Se'ayl?"

"Shhh. Rest," ordered a gentle female voice. "You've been hurt, but you are safe now."

The Na'vi words calmed him. Fingers closed his eyes and relaxed back into sleep. The dreams that followed were very pleasant, dreams of gentle love-making, dreams of completeness and happiness.

The next time he woke, Fingers' surroundings were not nearly as agreeable. Samson gunships had never been designed with noise suppression in mind - that was what noise-cancelling headphones were for. Regrettably, the headphones used by the RDA had never been re-engineered for the greater hearing range of the Na'vi. The roar of the engines sent a splitting pain into his skull. Through gritted teeth he demanded, "Where am I?"

A rather ugly Unìltiranyu corpsman named Johnson grinned down at him. "We're flying you back to Hell's Gate," he yelled. "It looks like you had a fall."

"How did you know where to pick me up?" demanded Fingers, ignoring the stabbing pain behind his eyes.

"When you didn't call in on schedule, the Boss waited for two days before activating your locator beacon," answered the corpsman. "Then he sent us out to get you."

Fingers grimaced. He must have been out for three-four days. He vaguely remembered falling, but everything since then was a blur.

"My stuff?" he asked.

"We got everything," yelled Johnson. He held up a pressure syringe and pressed it against Fingers' arm. "This will make you more comfortable, until we get you home."

The world faded away to a blur, leaving him to daydream upon a beautiful face close to his own, one whose features were never quite clear. It did not occur to Fingers to protest that he was being taken away from home.

* * *

Galina watched the flying machine of the other blue ones take him away. Her hands clenched and unclenched, as a tumult of emotions ran though her spirit. She had wanted to fight the ones who took him away. A combination of fear and the knowledge that his friends could heal his hurts better than she could stilled her hand.

Still, she was filled with a sense of guilt, a strange feeling of betrayal. This time, Galina was the traitor, not the one whose name she now knew.

It was a strange name – Ayzekwä. Why would he be named after the fingers of a hand, unless he was named for the extra finger he had on each hand?

She shivered, remembering how those fingers had stroked her flesh, how they thrilled her skin when he pulled her towards him in his half-sleep. She was so surprised she did not think to struggle at first, and then when Ayzekwä joined his queue to hers Galina had not wanted to.

The sadness in his spirit she stroked away, leaving only joy in its place, and the memory of the one who had gone before her. But the bliss of coupling was beyond anything Galina had ever imagined.

Somehow, Galina knew that by loving him, she had committed a great wrong. Though he might have consented in his spirit, Ayzekwä had not consented in his life.

The noise of the machine faded away, until it was replaced by the natural sounds of the forest.

A hot tear rolled down one cheek, and she bit her lip to stem the flood that was only held back by her will. One hand caressed her belly, knowing that within her was a brand new life.

She hoped Ayzekwä would forgive her betrayals, and not hate her as she deserved. Not for her sake, but for the sake of their child yet to be born.


	11. Chapter 11

It turned out Fingers had a small skull fracture.

Tsa'peen, former CMO at Hell's Gate and now healer of the Ikran People dropped in to see him. "You must have hit your head damn hard," she commented, idly scanning an image of his head on a data tablet. "Na'vi skeletal structures are reinforced with carbon fibre. It's just as well you managed to retain consciousness long enough to get under cover."

"Why's that?" asked Fingers curiously.

"Na'vi are susceptible to hypothermia," was her blunt reply. "More so than humans. They don't have fat reserves as protection. A couple of days of unconsciousness in the rain in those damn mountains could easily have killed you."

Fingers shivered. He hadn't realised he had been in that much trouble. All he remembered was being warm and comfortable.

"You'll need to take it quietly for about two or three months," she continued. "Broken bones take longer to heal for the Na'vi – the carbon fibre lattices are slow to repair. I'm afraid your wandering woodchopper gig will have to go on hold for a while."

She scanned the image more closely. It was amazing, really. Tsa'peen would have expected some inflammation and swelling of the brain from an injury like Fingers'. Well, there was some, but it was minor. He really had been lucky.

Her study of traditional healing practices told her these types of injuries could be treated by tsahaylu. Apparently, if one was mated, making the bond reduced swelling and inflammation of the brain. Tsa'peen had seen a similar case with a young Ikran woman who had fallen awkwardly from her pa'li. Forming tsahaylu with her husband had brought her around remarkably quickly.

She reflected sadly this wasn't the case with Fingers. Se'ayl had been a lovely young woman. He was damned lucky the injury was not as bad as it could have been, as there were few other therapies available to control brain swelling for a Na'vi.

"Ok," agreed Fingers. "I could do with a holiday."

Tsa'peen asked, "What about your hunt for the mysterious Nantangte?"

Fingers half-smiled. "Uluta is fine."

"Is there something you're not telling me?" she asked with a smile.

He shrugged. "I bumped into her after leaving the Rongloa. Nothing to tell, really. We didn't get on."

The expression on his face told Tsa'peen there was definitely something he wasn't telling her. She wanted to pry, to weasel out what really happened in their encounter. The problem was her professionalism as a medico interfered, as he still looked damned tired.

"Get some rest," she ordered brusquely. "I'll drop in for a look at you in a few weeks.

"Ok," he agreed sleepily, and started to nod off.

* * *

As it was, Fingers was more or less confined to base for the next four months. The fracture took longer to heal than even the worst estimate from the medical staff, and Fingers was left to mooch about Hell's Gate with little to do.

He did spend some time plotting sightings of Uluta, or rather Nantangte. Even the former humans called her that now.

Her legend was growing into some Na'vi combination of the Tooth Fairy and Easter Bunny. What really amazed him was how quickly she moved around, and the extent of her range.

Fingers spent a lot of time perched up on the roof of the control tower, looking out into the forest. He wasn't unhappy. It was that a sense of longing and need to be out there amongst the green had stricken his soul.

When he was finally given the all-clear, Fingers didn't waste any time. He struck out for his original destination at the first opportunity.

* * *

Galina Stefanova Uluta woke screaming.

The two viperwolves alongside her stirred, Kizlun getting to her feet and climbing into her lap. Galina clasped her sister in her arms and wept.

She remembered everything.

Galina was the woman the Na'vi children called Nantangte, she was the human soldier, and she was the abused child who was beaten and raped by her foster-father. She was the murderess, and worst of all she was the woman who had betrayed and raped the blue one named Ayzekwä.

She knew herself, and she was evil.

Only one thing stopped her from drawing her knife and slicing open the veins in her arms, spilling her blood on the soil of the forest – the stirring of the new life inside her swelling belly.

* * *

The greeting Fingers received at the home of the Ikran People was as warm and welcoming as always. He was ushered to the workshop of the Tsahik, for all the clan knew and understood he was her friend and comrade.

"Ayzekwä," she said with genuine pleasure, "Oe ngati kameie."

He acknowledged the greeting with a gesture, and said pointedly, "Na'vi, Sharon? What happened to most foul-mouthed English speaker ever to live?"

Sharon laughed and embraced him. "I'm out of practice," she admitted shame-facedly. "I haven't spoken 'Ìnglìsì in months."

Fingers laughed with her. "You're still speaking Na'vi," he observed drily.

"So I am," she replied. "Let's have a look at the recovering invalid." Sharon held him at arm's length to examine his face, a shadow passing briefly over her face. If Fingers had blinked, he would have missed it.

"Are you ok?" he asked, suddenly concerned.

"I'm fine," she said, her tone saying anything but. Cautiously, she asked, "Did anything happen between you and Galina?"

Fingers immediately looked shamefaced. For a latecomer to the whole Tsahik deal, Sharon was fucking uncanny how deeply she could see into a guy's soul. "We fought, after I left the Rongloa Hometree. I kissed her, and she ran off. I didn't mean to – it just happened." He sighed, adding, "I haven't seen Galina since – I wanted to apologise."

Sharon bit her lip, but did not respond.

"What's wrong?" demanded Fingers. Now she was bloody worrying him.

"Ayzekwä," she said slowly, her voice lowering subtly, underlining the importance of what she was about to say. Sharon repeated, "Ayzekwä, you show every sign of being recently mated. Have you made tsahaylu with a woman?"

English words exploded from Fingers' mouth. "You've got to be kidding!"

A deadly silence deepened between them. The seriousness of Sharon's face showed her to be doing anything other than kidding him.

"The bitch," whispered Fingers. He felt unclean, violated. The Uluta cunt had raped him, raped him while he was helpless. "I'll kill her."

As he spun to leave Sharon's steely grip clamped on his forearm. "Wait," she ordered softly. "There are facts you need to know."

His words were as cold as interstellar space. "I'm waiting."

Sharon hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Galina Stefanova Uluta has no reason to trust any male," she said quietly. "She was abused by her foster-father for eleven years."

No other words could have had the same impact.

The Tsahik of the Ikran People – for now she truly was Tsahik, and not his friend – released his arm. She said, "When Galina was seventeen, she was charged with his murder. She escaped conviction, and was released on the grounds of justifiable homicide." Sharon sighed. "There's more. On remand, she was beaten and raped by two guards. They escaped punishment for their crime – unless if you count their deaths in the ruin of 'Rrta as justice."

Almost, he forgave her, but then Fingers' heart hardened. "That's no excuse."

"No, it isn't," agreed Sharon. "Humanity was sick. No Na'vi would do such a thing – it is not even physically possible."

"She raped me," he stated, his voice flat and cold.

"I only have two things to add," said the Tsahik. "The first is that by mating with you, Galina probably saved your life. Tsahaylu increases blood flow to the queue, providing a relief valve for excessive pressure on the brain. It also decreases blood pressure in the rest of the body, except in one or two obvious areas. Tsa'peen told me that over the time it was left untreated, swelling of the brain from your skull fracture should have killed you. She couldn't explain your survival otherwise."

"What is the second?" A tiny sliver of doubt crept into his voice.

"One question that only you can answer," said Sharon. "Are you sure it was rape?"


	12. Chapter 12

Fingers left the home of the Ikran People in a swirl of emotions, foremost of which was betrayal. Only one thing stopped him from immediately hunting down Uluta like a dog. He could not answer Sharon's question.

Instead, he drifted from one clan to the next, without purpose or direction.

All greeted him, for he was recognised as not only Ayzekwä, the feller of trees, but also one who bore news of far distant events. However, they were disturbed at his quiet, and were concerned for him, for despite the tragedy of his life, Ayzekwä had always been cheerful and approachable. Se'ayl, the old Tsahik of the Rongloa, was the first to confront him over his withdrawn spirit.

He refused to say anything other than he desired words with Nantangte.

However, this was impossible.

Nantangte had not been seen by any child for months. Many of the Na'vi thought she had died somewhere in the forest, unmarked and unmourned by her clan. Some thought that the Unìltiranyu were to blame, for abandoning one of their own.

Others thought that she was sick in the head. Many such ran away from the safety and protection of the clans.

Only Sharon, Tsahik of the Ikran People, knew something of the truth, and she held her own counsel.

* * *

Months stretched into years.

Gradually, the pain of Uluta's betrayal of Fingers eased within his spirit, although it did not disappear. Sometimes, he went days without thinking of it at all.

This was forgotten one day, when he was confronted by a figure in the middle of his path.

"You," he said quietly.

Galina stood alone, without the viperwolves by her side. Her face was expressionless.

"Well?" he commented acerbically. "I assume there is some reason for your presence."

The woman he thought he hated more than any other held stepped to one side, to reveal a child of about three. "This is your daughter," said Galina. "Her name is Irina." She squatted on her haunches, and said quietly, "Irina, this is your father, Ayzekwä. Go to him."

"Sempu?" asked the little girl. Her eyes were wide, and she hung back, grasping for her mother's hand.

"Do not be afraid, my cubling," murmured Galina. "He is a good man, a man who is worthy of trust."

Fingers felt as though he had just been sideswiped by an eighteen-wheeler. He had a daughter, a child of whom he knew nothing.

The little girl released her mother's hand, and trotted towards him. There was only one thing Fingers could do. He bent down and swept his daughter into an embrace.

"Wha...?" he started to say, and then stopped. Tears were trickling down Galina's stony face, and they were not tears of joy.

"I took what should have been freely given," said Galina. "I am not worthy of her love."

"Wait!" he said, knowing without being told what this woman intended, but he might as well have been speaking to a mountain. Galina stepped off the trail, into the forest. He ran after her. Holding a child in his arms made him slow.

"Are we playing a game?" asked Irina.

Fingers stopped. There was no chance he could catch Galina. Nantangte knew the ways of the forest better than any Na'vi, and he was encumbered with a little girl. His mind was having trouble grasping the whole concept of 'daughter'.

"Yes," he said, desperately trying to think of what to say to this child. "We are playing hide and seek."

"I'm not hiding yet," observed the little girl, pointing out the obvious. "We can't play if I'm not hiding."

"Your mother is hiding, Irina," he said. "It's our turn to find her."

Irina pouted, "But I always hide." She frowned for a moment. "What if we can't find sa'nu?" Tears started welling in her eyes, as she bravely tried not to cry.

He swallowed. Fingers suspected his next words would determine the path for the rest of his life. "We'll keep looking," he promised, trying to project certainty into his voice.

"We will?"

"For as long as it takes," he assured her.

Irina gave Fingers a trembling smile. "Are you really sempu?"

Fingers smiled back. "Does your mother ever lie?"

"No."

* * *

They weren't far from the place of the Omaticaya. Fingers made directly for Kelutrel – he had little food, and could not risk spending a night in the open. Not when he knew nothing about caring for a child.

Änsit was the first to greet him. "Kaltxi, Ayzekwä," he called out. His smile was suddenly cancelled out by a frown. He crouched down in front of Irina. "I do not know you, little one. What is your name?"

His daughter answered in her piping voice, "Irina te Utralzup Nantangte'ite."

Änsit looked up at Fingers. "Is this true?"

Fingers nodded. "Irina is my daughter, and daughter of Galina, the woman all Na'vi know as Nantangte."

The father of his dead mate let out a long hissing breath, and stood up. "The clan must be told of this."

The meeting place of the Omaticaya glowed with the mystic blue light of the tmi nat'sey lanterns. The clan listened quietly to Fingers words, telling of his encounters with the woman known as Nantangte, and what he knew of her history.

An older woman stirred restlessly, looking as though she wanted to ask a question when he revealed Galina was a survivor of Kiev. She did not interrupt him – it was custom for a bearer of news to talk until the end of his story. Only at the end were questions permitted.

There were many expressions of shock on the faces of the clan when Fingers revealed the nature of her abuse as a child.

All the while, Irina sat on his lap, looking in wonder around her. He supposed she had never seen so many Na'vi in one place – if she had seen any at all. After he fell silent, the olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya stood.

"This is a strange story," said Zhake'soolly. "I have not heard such a tale since my childhood." He looked towards Mo'at, mother of his mate and Tsahik. His message was clear.

Mo'at said, "The hand of Eywa is clear in the matter of Nantangte and Ayzekwä."

"What is your counsel?" asked Fingers.

"Counsel?" answered the Tsahik. "I have no counsel. Ayzekwä, this story is for you to live, not for the People to tell you how to live it."

Fingers cursed under his breath.


	13. Chapter 13

Galina lingered around the place of the blue ones, the clan she now knew was called the Omaticaya. Despite her resolve, she could not pull away from her daughter. The feeling of loss inside her spirit was ripping her apart. Her spirit was darker than the night sky above her.

'Rrno whimpered softly. He wanted to be gone, gone far from this place. Holding close to a nest of the blue ones was unwise, he was telling her. Kizlun did not make a noise, although Galina could feel the desire to be far from this place blazing from the viperwolf.

"I see you, Galina Stefanova Uluta," said a female voice, speaking in perfect unaccented English.

Galina whirled around, snatching at her knife, while her brother and sister bristled at the intruder. "Who are you?" she demanded.

The woman was of middle age – tall, strong and confident. She carried no weapon other than a sheathed knife. She said quietly, "You are wondering how I managed to surprise you. It was not easy." The woman tilted her head to one side, ignoring the tension in the viperwolves, observing her quarry. "My name is Kalinkey, healer of the Omaticaya."

Galina forced herself to relax. If this woman had wished her dead, then Galina would not be breathing.

Kalinkey continued, "You are wondering why I wish to have words with you."

There was only one possible answer. "Yes."

"Come then," said the strange woman. "I will take you to a place where we will not be disturbed, and your brother and sister will not feel uncomfortable."

* * *

The woman kept her word. Their destination was the top of a hill with commanding views of the forest around them. There was little chance of being surprised, even from those riding on ikran back.

"This is not the first time we have met," said Kalinkey.

Galina frowned, "I have no memory of this." It was true, although she doubted her own memory of many things. Galina knew that she had forgotten who she was, after the breaking of her exopack. It seemed more than possible there had been other things she had forgotten.

"As I was First, so you are Last," said the woman. "There will be no more."

Kalinkey's words mystified Galina. She had no idea what the woman was saying.

"I see you are puzzled," observed Kalinkey with a smile. "Perhaps some explanation is due, as you were too young to remember our last meeting. On the other hand, I remember it very well."

"Why do you speak in riddles?" demanded Galina hotly. Her hand fell to 'Rrno's shoulder, caressing it without thought.

"Eywa asked me to give you a message," said the mysterious woman. "It is a simple message, although it has great meaning." She sighed, her eyes growing warm and gentle, before she confided, "Your mother and father loved you."

"No!" screamed Galina, backing away from the woman. "They left me! They left me to _him_."

"It was not their choice, Galina," replied Kalinkey. "They gave their lives for you, protecting you from the blast of the bomb, at Kiev. This is why your father Stefan Uluta, and your mother Irina Kydora could not be with you." She saw the distress on Galina's face. "It is not their fault your life became hard, but mine."

The anguish and confusion on Galina's face was palpable. "How is it your fault?"

"I took you from your mother's arms," stated Kalinkey, "From where she lay in the rubble of Kiev."

Galina exclaimed, "That's impossible!" She pointed to Kalinkey's four fingered hands with one of her own.

"I was born human," said Kalinkey. "Before they made me Na'vi, on 'Rrta. Those who came after me had five fingers, not four as I did. But Eywa made you last, made you true, as the tawtute made me first."

The woman called Nantangte was silent, considering the words of the healer, trying to absorb them. Kizlun snorted with what might have been the viperwolf version of derision.

The healer woman spoke again. "This is not the only message I carry, although it is not from Eywa. This other message is from the women of the Omaticaya."

Galina had been riding an emotional rollercoaster for many days, ever since she decided to give up Irina , and wondered what shock she was about to receive. "What is this message?"

Kalinkey said, "Your daughter needs a mother and a father, not one or the other." Her steady gaze drilled into Galina's eyes. "Think upon this."

* * *

Irina was a quiet child.

She had not complained, or whined, screamed or thrown a tantrum. These were character traits for which Fingers was supremely grateful.

In some ways the quiet was worse, far worse.

Fingers knew that Na'vi families almost always slept touching, parents protectively sleeping. He could do nothing other than hold Irina in his arms as she fell asleep. To do otherwise would have been wrong, to be a stain against his sense of honour. He knew Irina was his. All he had to do was look at her face to see the truth.

Irina was his child.

This fact kept Fingers from sleep – that and the unfamiliar sense of feeling a small body clutch at his for warmth and protection against the dangers of the night.

She murmured something in her sleep, wriggling deeper into his embrace.

"Sempu."

He was lost.

* * *

"You look tired, my son," said Änsit.

Fingers glanced up at his former father-in-law. The bugger was smiling. He almost never smiled.

"I did not sleep well," answered Fingers. Somehow, he managed to suppress a yawn that otherwise might have split his face in two.

Änsit chuckled. "Everything changes when one becomes a father."

They watched Irina playing with the children of the Omaticaya. It surprised Fingers how easily they accepted a stranger into their games, making her a part of them without hesitation. It would not have played quite like the same way for human children.

"What do I do, my father?" asked Fingers. "I know nothing of children, of how to care for them, or how to teach them to grow right."

"It will be my honour to teach you," answered Änsit, a hint of sadness in his voice.

Fingers felt his eyes moisten, and knew what Änsit was thinking. He reached out to grip him on the forearm, assuring Änsit he understood his pain.

They both still grieved for Se'ayl.

The silence was broken by Änsit saying, "Irina is a beautiful child."

"She takes after her mother," said Fingers, thinking it was a good thing. He was no picture postcard – either as a human or as an Avatar.

Änsit cocked a brow in surprise. "Is that so?" he asked. "The children who have seen Nantangte have all said she is pretty, so perhaps it is no wonder." The tone of affection in Fingers' voice had been unmistakeable. Though Änsit had seen the pain and anger in his face during the telling of his story, it was clear that Ayzekwä had chosen Nantangte, and had chosen for love. He imagined it would just take him a little while to realise it himself.

Sometimes life could be very complicated.


	14. Chapter 14

Fingers stayed with the Omaticaya for two months. It was the longest he had stayed in one place since leaving Hell's Gate on the search for Galina.

He did not notice that he had stopped thinking of her as Uluta.

His attention was on the happiness of his daughter, rather than his own thoughts. Though he spent much time with Änsit, every afternoon he took Irina out into the forest – ostensibly to search for Galina. They would not return to Kelutrel until after sunset.

It was strange how he no longer thought of the night as dark. The bioluminescent glow of the forest transformed the land from a forest not entirely like those of Earth to an alien wonderland – especially when the huge blue crescent of Polyphemus hung low in the sky.

While he was true to his word in searching for the mother of his daughter, Fingers would not admit to himself that he found real pleasure in being with Irina. In his time mated to Se'ayl, he had never thought of becoming a father – Fingers had imagined that he would become accustomed to the concept in time, but now it had been dropped on him like a rock, he found he enjoyed it.

"Why are you sad, sempu?" asked Irina.

Fingers started. He had not yet become accustomed to the directness of children – especially Na'vi children. He sighed, and said, "I miss Se'ayl," he replied honestly.

"Sa'nu told me that you were mated to another, and she died," stated Irina bluntly

He shifted uneasily under her direct gaze. Fingers had never realised how much Galina knew of his life, and had not considered the possible extent of Irina's understanding. He had been far too wrapped up in his anger to consider anything else.

"Änsit was her father," she continued. "But neither of you ever talk about her."

For her age, Irina was far more perceptive than a human child ever would be. "Thinking and talking of Se'ayl hurts, in here," he said, touching the chest above his heart. "Sometimes I think I will stop breathing from the hurt, even now."

"Like when I think of sa'nu," replied Irina.

"Yes," he replied, glad that she understood. What his daughter said next almost stopped his heart.

"Sempu," she asked slowly, "Do you miss sa'nu too?"

* * *

The forest did not gladden her heart any longer.

Instead, the brilliant colours, the dappled light of the sun falling through the leaves, and the rich scents of growing things all felt like chains around Galina's spirit. The words of Kalinkey bore heavily upon her, and she knew it. Every time Galina tried to leave the vicinity of the place of the blue ones, the tugging at her heart pulled her back. Not even her love for Kizlun and 'Rrno eased the pain she felt.

By giving up her daughter, Galina had given up part of her soul.

* * *

An eternity passed before Fingers could speak in reply, although in reality it was only a few seconds. "That's a very complicated question," he began to say, looking off into the distance.

He was prevented from saying any more by Irina crying out, "Kizlun! 'Rrno!"

Fingers swung about, to see his daughter running towards a pair of viperwolves. He shouted fearfully, "Irina!"

Irina slowed when she saw the curling lips of the viperwolves, followed by a series of hunting calls and yips. She knew that what those sounds meant – helpless prey was there to be had. The two viperwolves were not the companions of her mother. Another seven appeared, circling around Fingers and Irina, cutting off any prospect of escape.

"Irina, get behind me," ordered Fingers quietly, unslinging his axe. "Slowly move back towards the tree, and stay there."

"Yes, sempu," said the little girl, her voice amazingly steady. They backed away from the predators, until Irina said, "I can't go any further."

One of the viperwolves darted in, seeking to hamstring Fingers. He swung his axe viciously, connecting with the back of its skull. The curved edge cleaved it apart, showering the ground with a fountain of blood and brains.

It was as though a starting pistol had been fired. All the remaining viperwolves lunged forward, seeking to pull Fingers down, and he found he was fighting for his life.

* * *

Galina heard the faint cry of a screaming child. Without thinking, she was running through the forest, somehow keeping ahead of both Kizlun and 'Rrno. She burst into a small gore-soaked clearing, to find a horrifying sight.

Irina was backed against a tree, facing a snarling nantang, her knife drawn in self defence. Four nantang lay on the ground, dead or dying, while another four had pulled Ayzekwä down to his knees, but he was still alive and struggling.

Without hesitating, Galina drew her bow and loosed an arrow, killing the nantang threatening her daughter instantly. She flung herself at the four around Ayzekwä, swinging her bow and half-stunning one, while Kizlun and 'Rrno dragged down another.

Seconds later, the only live nantang in the clearing were hers.

* * *

The axe was thickly coated with blood. Fingers wasn't sure whose it was. His unwilling left hand curled around the haft, and he used it to lever himself back onto his feet. "Galina," he said, recognising the woman who had saved him. "They were a little more than I could..."

Fingers swayed on his feet. Everything was going dim. "...manage."

The world started to slip away. The last thing he heard before it went dark was a child's scream.

"Sempu!"

* * *

Ayzekwä crumpled to the ground.

Her daughter rushed to his side. She knelt, and tried to use her small hands to close the many tears in his flesh. Irina turned her tear-oaked face to her mother's. "Save him," she pleaded.

The most severe of Ayzekwä's wounds were in his limbs. Galina's long-ago training in battlefield first aid asserted itself. She worked quickly, stripping away his loin cloth to use it as a pressure bandage. "I want you to hold the knot as hard as you can," she ordered, as she twisted the cloth it around his thigh, stopping the worst of his blood loss. "Here," she said, placing Irina's hand on the twist in the cloth.

Irina did as she was told.

"Good," said Galina. "Stay. Kizlun and 'Rrno will be with you."

It was not far to a clump of pxiut, the tree humans called razor-palm. Galina cut away several leaves, and returned to the clearing. Irina was still there, doing as she was told, her face pale.

Galina wrapped a Velcro-like leaf around the improvised bandage. She used the other fronds to apply pressure to the other wounds. "You can let go, Irina," she said quietly.

"Is sempu dying?" asked her daughter.

"He is badly injured," replied Galina. "We have to take him to the healer."

Irina nodded in understanding. "To Kalinkey," she whispered.

"Yes. I will carry Ayzekwä, but I have to run," said Galina. "I cannot carry you as well. You will have to run too, behind me, as fast as you can."

"Kizlun and 'Rrno will be with me?" asked Irina.

"Yes," confirmed Galina. She slid her arms under Ayzekwä's body, and lifted him from the ground where he lay. An explosive shout of effort burst from her lips. He was a big and muscular man, and not light. Galina grunted again, shifting his weight so he was slung across one shoulder in a fireman's lift. His weight almost drove her into the ground, but she had no choice.

She straightened, and then set off at a steady jog. She did not look behind, trusting her daughter to follow her.


	15. Chapter 15

The clan of the Omaticaya had not barred her way to their healer, a fact for which Galina was thankful. However, the clanspeople did not help her either.

Then again, perhaps the two nantang padding behind her protecting her daughter might have something to do with their non-interference. The soft murmurs of _Nantangte_ reaching her ears tended to confirm this supposition.

Galina raised her nose and sniffed. She caught the scent of the healer woman, and knew exactly where to find her.

Kalinkey did not bother with a greeting. She did not say a word, merely taking Ayzekwä from Galina and gently laying him on a faded yet richly worked rug. The healer knelt beside him, conducting a quick inspection of his wounds.

"These are nantang bites," observed Kalinkey, her voice bland.

Galina's spine stiffened suddenly. She glanced guiltily at Kizlun and 'Rrno hovering at the entry to the healer's alcove, her daughter sandwiched between them.

"It wasn't Kizlun and 'Rrno," objected Irina tearfully. "They would never bite sempu."

The healer looked up in surprise at the young girl. She was clutching a blood-stained axe to her chest, as though it was the most precious thing in the world. "If you say so, then it must be true," replied Kalinkey, correctly relating the names to the two nantang blocking the entrance to her alcove. For a moment she considered asking Irina to surrender the fearsome looking weapon, and promptly discarded the notion. It was clear that the axe belonged to the wounded man. Asking her to give up the axe would create more problems than it would resolve.

"Can you heal him?" asked Galina quietly.

"He is a strong man," replied Kalinkey, not answering the question, although her voice was reassuring. It was unwise to give a commitment to restore to health, when the end result was uncertain. She checked his pulse, noting the threadiness of the rhythm. Ayzekwä had lost a great deal of blood. That was the most important thing to address, especially as Nantangte had halted most of the blood loss with her improvised dressings.

It was well that only two days ago she had refilled her jars of sap from the syulang reypay, the bush the tawtute had called the bloodtree. Quickly, she arranged a hollow vine into the tap of the first jar, squeezed a thorn into the end, and inserted the improvised needle into Ayzekwä's arm to start the transfusion. It only took about two minutes before the threadiness of his heartbeat improved.

One by one, she carefully cleaned and dressed each wound. The worst of the tears in his flesh she stitched before applying the healing resin. Nantang bites could easily rot and fester, unless one ensured the wound was sterile.

All the time Kalinkey worked, the only sound was the low noise of a Na'vi clan at work drifting through the alcove opening. She changed the vine to a new jar and glanced at the unconscious man's face. His colour had improved significantly.

"I need to gather more syulang reypay sap, in case he bleeds more," advised Kalinkey. "When Ayzekwä wakes, he will be both hungry and thirsty. I will arrange for some broth, but you will need to care for him."

Galina replied, "I hear you."

Kalinkey nodded, stood up and brushed past the young girl at the door, still clutching her father's axe. She did not remark that the expression of worry and fear on her face was exactly the same as that on her mother's.

* * *

Fingers struggled towards wakefulness. In the moment before he opened his eyes, he realised he really would rather have stayed unconscious, because everything hurt. He blinked once, as a face slowly swam into focus, lit by the pale blue light of a Na'vi lamp.

"Good. You are awake,"" said Galina. Her voice was tight, matching the tension in her face. "It is past time for you to be conscious."

"Hello to you too," replied Fingers sarcastically. He tried to sit up, and let out a most un-masculine squeak of pain as his body insisted on remaining horizontal.

"The stitches in your wounds are pulling," she said. "I will help you up, to spare you unnecessary discomfort."

It still hurt when Galina raised him to a sitting position, and propped him up with coarse woven bags filled with sweet-smelling greenery. Fingers smiled to himself despite the pain, thinking that Galina would probably class this as necessary discomfort. "Where are we?" he asked, not noticing he used the first person plural in his question.

"In the place of the blue ones," answered Galina, and then corrected herself. "The O-ma-ti-cay-a," she enunciated carefully, as thought the word was unfamiliar. "Our daughter told me the name the blue ones use for themselves."

"Is Irina ok?" he demanded, his heart leaping into his mouth.

Galina smiled – the first time he had ever seen her smile. "She is well, and safe." She paused, and frowned slightly. "I am sorry."

"For what?" he asked, puzzled. "You saved our lives."

Fingers received another surprise on a day of surprises. Galina's eyes grew bright with unshed tears, and her lower lip trembled. It was clear she was struggling with her words, when two tears trickled down her cheeks, and she drew in a great sob. "I should have been there," she wept. "If I had been there, y-you would not have b-been hurt."

If there was one thing Fingers shared with the vast majority of his sex, it was an inability to resist a crying woman. "Shhh," he whispered, gingerly gathering her into his arms. "It's ok, Galina," he added. "Irina is safe and well. That's the important thing." The mother of his daughter wept into Fingers' shoulder while he stroked her hair.

* * *

"Is sempu awake?" demanded Irina in her piping voice. "Will he live?"

Kalinkey smiled at the young girl. "Yes, my sweet," she said.

"Good," she declared, and went to enter the alcove.

"Not yet," advised Kalinkey firmly, placing a hand on the child's shoulder. "You can't go in."

"Why not?" pouted Irina. "I want to see sempu."

"He needs time to heal your mother," replied Kalinkey.

Irina frowned. "But sempu is the one who was hurt."

The healer shook her head sadly. She knew the wounds that Nantangte bore within her heart were old and deep, but no lotions or poultices at her command would heal them. There was only one magic that could.

* * *

Over the weeks that followed, neither Fingers nor Galina referred to her tears. In fact, they hardly spoke at all.

Instead, Galina brought him food, bathed him and dressed his wounds. She even, as the more squeamish would put it, 'attended to his personal needs'. And by that Fingers didn't mean sex, but the inevitable consequence of living – pissing and shitting. She dealt with all of these without batting an eyelid, her serious face intent on her self-appointed task. In all that time she did not smile.

Irina spent much of her time alongside her father, babbling happily and playing mysterious solitary games, trying to cover up her tension. Both father and daughter were intently aware of the frequent long looks Galina took out at the forest. It was clear she was uneasy at being surrounded by the Omaticaya.

* * *

The first day he was truly ambulatory, Fingers woke before dawn, gathered his pack and axe, and scooped up his sleeping daughter into one arm, wincing slightly as his scars pulled. He strode out along the main trail from Kelutrel, stopping at the edge of the deep forest, and waited.

He did not have to wait long.

Galina walked lightly down the trail, her two nantang by her side. When she saw Fingers, she stopped dead, the sadness on her face instantly replaced by fury. "Why are you here, away from your bed?" she demanded angrily.

"We're going with you," replied Fingers quietly.

"No, no," she refuted, shaking her head, her fists clenched by her side. "No. It is not what I intend."

Fingers said, "It is not your choice." He took a deep breath, continuing, "If I have learnt anything over the past weeks, it is that Irina needs her mother."

"I gave her up," she declared. "I am not worthy."

He cocked his head to one side and smiled, "It's not your choice, Galina. Irina's heart longs for her mother – and no mother every truly gives up a child." Fingers saw doubt appear, and rolled some virtual dice in his head. He hoped he wasn't about to screw things up like usual. "There is another consideration. My heart longs for yours also," he said.

A terrible vulnerability appeared on her features. "But I betrayed you."

Teleportation was supposed to be impossible, a total abrogation of natural law. However, somehow Fingers managed it. There was no other explanation for how he was instantly at her side. He placed two fingers of his free hand under her chin, and tilted her face up so his lips could caress hers.

When the kiss broke, an eternity later, Irina stirred in his embrace. "Kaltxi, sa'nu," she said sleepily. "Have you stopped fighting with sempu now?"

"I think so," replied Galina. She accepted her daughter from Fingers, balancing the child on one hip, all the while her eyes smiled at her mate through tear-encrusted lashes.

As her fingers of her tight hand entwined with those of his left, Fingers said, "Besides, next time I get injured nigh unto death I want to be sure you are there to rescue me."

A snort of laughter exploded from Galina's lips, and she squeezed his hand. "You," she accused, and could say no more, she was so happy.

"Hey," replied Fingers, "it's worked for me so far."

The woman who was Nantangte laughed, and kissed Fingers on the cheek. The couple took their daughter, and walked together into the forest, followed by their two viperwolves.

* * *

Irina grew into a handsome young woman, travelling constantly between the places of the Fifteen Clans with her parents, her brother Ren'zhore, and her sister Se'ayl. Fingers and Galina were could not stay in one place for long – nor could the nantang pack that were the descendants of Kizlun and 'Rrno. Her father always said that her mother gave him a bad case of itchy feet.

Irina loved to sing, and learned the songs of all the clans. She was in her adolescence when she started to make her own songs, and soon became renowned amongst the Na'vi for the strength and purity of her voice, and her skill with lyrics.

The first time she sang the ballad of Nantangte and Ayzekwä before the clan of the Unìltiranyu, her parents' faces flushed with a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. The rapturous applause she received dismayed them even further, especially when the olo'eyktan of the clan greeted them after the song, telling all present of his joy that Fingers and Galina found happiness, for none deserved it more.

Afterwards, Fingers grumbled that his life was over, thanks to her song. His complaints were only stopped by Galina clipping the back of his head, and telling Irina not to listen to her father, who was only talking rubbish like usual. He laughed, kissed his mate, and told his daughter he was very proud of her.

A wistful smile appeared on Irina's face as she watched the love between her mother and father, wondering if she would ever be so lucky to find a love like theirs.

Irina would not have long to wait.

But that was another story.


End file.
